The myth of Achilles
by VenusJay
Summary: A story expressing the love between Alexander and Hephaestion
1. Chapter 1

Would this infernal suffering never cease?

Alexander reclined on the couch with a silver cup held, unsteadily, in his hand. Wine had flown freely all through the evening and now into the night. Many men had reached the stage of drunken stupor that embarrassed the king as they made toasts to his health and only succeeded in reminding him of his drunken fool of a father. A great number had been carried away by the guards and many more led away by the beautiful dancers. Not nearly as beautiful as his own Bagoas however.

The boy had captivated with his silken, raven locks and slow movements to represent the very being of Eros; jewellery flashing in the firelight. The steady thrumming of the music beat in time to Alexander's heart and it's quickened pace heightened the sense of excitement he had felt when he had watched the dancers move so intimately. He felt little flush at the thought of Bagoas however. The swish of his long hair conjured memories of a different being. One who held his heart so completely that he took over his mind as well. Hephaestion. Beautiful and sweet Hephaestion.

Alexander glanced towards him now, brief and subtle. As he had been doing all night with the hope that his generals did not notice. They were fine men, loyal and skilled in battle, yet they were jealous and cruel towards his love for Hephaestion. Though his love would never speak of these things to him, it was clear that when Alexander was absent he became the subject of ridicule and spite. The blue eyed beauty was never invited to their drinking parties and taunted as being 'The King's Whore'.

His Phai was robed in the beautiful furs that he lamented his buying for him and the kohl around his eyes only added to his beauty. It was no secret to Alexander how many men in the camp lusted after him let alone the women. When he passed they would take a side-wards glance and lick their lips, knowing they could look but they could never touch. Phai of course was oblivious to their true intent. He believed they mocked him, afraid to speak out publicly but inwardly thinking cruel taunts.

One of his most endearing qualities was his inability to recognise his own beauty. It kept him pure and without vanity. He never would understand the burning of men's desire for him, to claim him as their own at least once. The King however, knowing how to recognise the signs of such lust, could see it everywhere. Even a little in the generals who mocked him. Some may claim it as jealousy but Alexander had seen how the men watched him on a march when they stopped to bathe in the river. Such beauty is commonplace in the Hareem but matched with Hephaestion's intelligence, wit and strength it is no wonder he is envied.

He catches the king's eye and swiftly looks away. This is their little game at times. To tease until one of them yields to desire. He is quiet and reserved with everyone but Alexander. With him he is the definition of passion and at times the very epitome of filthy. The bright flash of his eyes is enough to capture his interest away from the eunuch. Bagoas sat beside him now and feeds him from the bowl, something intimate and comfortable in any other setting but here with Phai so close by it felt wrong. He wished to see the slender fingers of another reach out to feed him, to see his mouth open slightly involuntarily as he waits for his king to accept the food. He wishes it to be blue eyes shining at him.

* * *

><p>I glance back at him and my heart jitters a little when I see that an argument has broken out upon the balcony just slightly higher but well within my vision. His head snaps back as he receives a blow to the mouth and I feel myself standing. I have startled Bagoas who has dropped the dish and there is a hushed silence that enables the escalating fight to be heard.<p>

"You think you are his equal, strutting in his clothes and acting like you were the king himself," Cleitus stands unsteady in front of him, obscuring Hephaestion's no doubt calm expression from view. His drunk staggering however reveals Hephaestion who waves a hand at him in dismissal.

"You are drunk, Cleitus."

He catches a look at Alexander and nods at him to assure him that all is fine. The rowdiness around the fire has resumed and it is straining to hear them but the king pays great attention.

"What makes you so special," Cleitus demands. He points at Phai accusingly. "Hmm? Must be a real pleasure in the bed chamber if he keeps you around. Do you scream for him, pretty one?"

His tone changes and he advances on Hephaestion, reaching out to stroke his cheek. My blood begins to boil in such a way that the heat clouds my vision. I am stepping towards them. Phai pushes him away, telling him to go to bed.

"Only if you join me," Cleitus laughs loudly and there is a rumble of laughter from the surrounding men. Traitors! Betrayal! I will have them all flogged. I am shamed to see that even now, my beautiful Hephaestion is too meek to fight back. He is a soldier! He could easily put Cleitus in his place but instead he looks to me. He does not wish to embarrass me or my men. He allows himself to be a target to save political dispute. It sickens me to see this intelligent man mocked by someone like Cleitus.

"Enough," I say wearily but they do not seem to hear me. This angers me further.

"Go on lover boy, spread your legs like you do for the king," Cleitus reaches forward and takes hold of Hephaestion. I watch their scrabbling in horror, too drunk to react with anything other than shock at the conduct of one of my generals. Phai struggles against the awkward hold he has him in and I am thankful that others step in to cease his behaviour. I take a swift drink of the wine in my hand and go to sit down upon my couch again when I hear Hephaestion cry out. I turn to look and it becomes clear to me that what I thought were Samaritans were in fact, accomplices. Cleitus' servers hold his arms behind him as this traitor kisses him, pulling aside his robe to molest him.

They turn suddenly; everyone in the room. They are staring at me. I must have cried out but I did not realise. Hephaestion takes the opportunity to wriggle free from their grasp.

"Alexander," he calls out to me as he leans over the balcony, pleading. Anyone else would be pleading for me to arrest them and have them executed. But I know my Phai. He is pleading for them to be spared.

"Alexander, he is drunk. Not in his mind, he means no offense," Phai says loudly though the deathly silence means even a whisper could be heard. "Please, my love."

Cleitus laughs a cold laugh.

"I do not need the whore to defend me. If you spread your legs like a woman then you shall be treated as one," he addresses the room but the other men look away. "I merely expressed the desires of everyone in this room," he yells. "To put you in your rightful place," he grins. "At the king's feet!"

I watch in horror as he kicks Hephaestion, who struggles for a half a second, trying to find purchase, before falling over the edge of the balcony to the tiles below. I do not see him because of the gathering of men that surround him. Suddenly there are strong arms gripping me at both sides and I can hear the most heart-breaking scream. It is only when I draw a breath do I realise the sound came from myself.

"Hephaestion!"

The crowd breaks apart as I stagger towards him. I can only imagine my mother's face if she were to see how un-kingly I look as I fall to my knees and vomit from the violent clenching of my stomach. The crowd dissipates further and I scramble over to where he lays, his limbs at angles that suggest something is so very wrong. I look up and find Cleitus staring down at the scene as though he is unsure how it came to be. He does not try to run. He knows I would hunt him down.

"Phai," I murmur as I push his brown locks away from his face. He is pale as ash, blood still congealing on his lips from the earlier blow. My heart is broken. I pray to Zeus that he remains in the world of the living and I can hear someone telling me that the doctor is here. Hands pull me away from him and I do not resist. It is Bagoas. Somehow that makes it worse.


	2. Chapter 2

We all watch in silence as the eunuch leads Alexander away from here on unsteady legs, the wine goblet abandoned on the floor seeping a deep red into the tiles. I sink to my knees beside the doctor and gently place Hepheastion's head upon my lap. There is now blood on my hands and my thighs and the surrounding men look at it with an uneasy gaze. I recall a time in the field when Alexander had assured me that head wounds always seem worse than they really are.

"Ptolemy, here," I am handed a mass of cloak from Cassander who has removed it from his shoulders. He stoops to help me place it beneath Hephaestion's head and I notice the gentle flutter of his lashes as the physician examines him. Cassander and I share a glance and an acknowledgement. By the gods Hephaestion can be an annoyance at times but we would never wish this upon him. My heart twangs at the thought of Alexander without him. We mock in our jealousy of the king's fondness of him but truly we love to see him happy.

The man begins to stir and groans in pain. Perridicas encourages the gathered crowd to disperse, no doubt to save the general's dignity when he fully awakes to the pain. The doctor gives us the approval to move him and we gently place him within my cloak as a litter; carrying him gently through the passageways to Alexander's room. No thought occurred to us to bring him to his own.

He wails at the sight of him, presuming we have brought him a corpse.

"Alexander," I tell him sternly. "He lives yet. You should know he is a stubborn fool," I laugh and the surrounding men join me. The eunuch pulls Alexander from the bed so that we can lay Hephaestion on it.

"Where is he," he hisses at us all. We know who he is speaking of but none of us have an answer for him. He demands once more.

"We do not know, great king. He has disappeared into the night. No doubt in a fit of grief for causing such sorrow," Perridicas moves to soothe him and Alexander gives him a look of thanks. We watch as he pushes aside his anger and in one swift movement of his robes, lays beside Hephaestion. We watch, somewhat embarrassed as he strokes his hair and whispers to him.

He wakes with a shuddering breath, as though Alexander's presence brought him back from the grave. We all expect it, and would expect nothing less of any man but it is still disturbing to hear his shrieks of agony. The king clutches him tightly to him and hushes him, rocking with the shaking and twitching of Hephaestion.

"Wine, bring me wine," Alexander demands of anyone who will obey. His hand outstretched he does not tear his eyes away from his friend and hastily holds the goblet to his mouth, encouraging him to drink. He does in blind obedience and his eyes roll back into his skull as the pain overtakes him once more.

"What is wrong?!"

The doctor steps forward with a nervous demeanour.

"Majesty, I would need a further examination but I suspect the pain is in his broken leg."

The king laughs.

"Phai would not scream so for a broken leg! I've known him to walk miles on it when we were merely boys and he had fallen from his horse."

I have faith that the doctor is right but it would wound Alexander to think any less of his Hephaestion.

The general is quiet now and rests against Alexander, the occasional shudder overtaking his limbs. We busy ourselves in conversation as Alexander strips the clothes from him for the doctor. He knows our awkwardness and dismisses us, asking only Perridicas to stay. We glance at each other and it is understood that we know why. Another set of hands is required to hold him down.

We are almost at the end of the passageway when we hear the screams that indicate bones being set. I think on how such an evening of joy and festivity could end like this. I would doubt this was Cleitus' intent had he not said 'At the King's feet'. What a drunken fool to think that he could do such a thing to the king. For Hephaestion is king to Alexander.


	3. Chapter 3

"Al'skander, you must eat. I have brought you good wine and figs."

"Leave us Bagoas."

I have such concern for him in my heart that I find myself about to protest. I do not however. Such behaviour is for those far above me. I simply nod and leave the dish on the ornate table beside the bed and busy myself with tidying away some things, making myself invisible.

"I said leave us, Bagoas," he insists and it makes me falter.

"Yes, my king."

I glance at the sleeping form next to him on the bed and then hurry from the room. The squire attending the door catches my eye.

"He is well, Bagoas?"

The concern is evident in his eyes. They love their king. Everyone loves the king. He is strong and brave and compassionate. I do not wish to confess that he will not eat. The young boys believe I can make the king do things, think things that many cannot. How I wish it were true but it is only true of Hephaestion.

"He is caring for his 'Phaestian," I murmur before quickly leaving. I wonder what I should do with myself when the king does not need me. I decide to practice my dance for the king. It may make him happier.


	4. Chapter 4

"I should not have left you," I whisper as I lean in to kiss his temple. I know it is not the fault of the boy but I am angry that Bagoas had led me away last night when Hephaestion needed me there. I followed blindly. A mistake I will not make again. I stroke my thumb over the yellowing bruise that rests just below his cheekbone. He stirs and I regret that I cannot contain my affection enough to let him sleep. His eyelids flutter open and he seems confused.

"Phai, you're safe," I tell him and kiss his lips softly. He murmurs something that I do not understand but he draws himself towards me. I have no doubt that even after such a deep sleep the wine is having an affect on him. Even during feasts I have never known Hephaestion to become drunk in company. He merely sips at his cup. Last night however I forced him to drink the whole pitchard in the hopes that he would not remember the pain I inflicted upon him.

Remembering his screams broke my heart but worst part was the look of betrayal when he saw that I held him fast. I was his source of comfort in a cruel world and now he must see me as one of his tormentors. I was glad too that I had sent the men away so they would not hear his litany of my name as he cried out for help.

"'Ander," he croaks dryly and I immediately hold a cup of water to his lips. Fine Persian water to soothe his throat. He barely opens his lips so I tilt his head back for him to ensure he swallows some. He is pale and sweat has matted his usually sleek, glossy hair. I wonder if he knows I am here.

"Phai, it's me. It's Alexander. I am here my love. I am here."

I hold him to me and help him to sit up. His movements are slow and clumsy. I feed him from the bowl that Bagoas left and I know I should make it up to the boy for being cold with him.

Hephaestion's eyes are unfocused but he smiles as though he recognises me.

"Beautiful," he sighs and allows me to feed him some fig.

"My king."

I look to the doorway and permit Ptolemy to enter.

"My king, Cleitus has been arrested."

I nod to myself and wonder what I am now to do. Should this be put down to a drunken mistake?

"Does he express remorse?"

Ptolemy seems a little startled by the question.

"I do not know Alexander. He asks for your forgiveness, if that is the same."

I sigh.

"He looks well my king," Ptolemy says with a nod towards Hephaestion.

"I always look well, Ptolemy," Hephaestion slurs. I chuckle to myself. He is more lucid than I first thought. "At least, better than you."

So I have not lost the Hephaestion I know and love. I let out a hearty laugh and Ptolemy joins me. It is genuine and my affection for him only increases to know that he wishes no harm to my love. He nods and turns to leave.

"Ptolemy."

"Yes, my king?"

"You shall have a new cloak; of the finest Persian silks. You and Cassander both."

I enjoy the look of surprise on his face.

"Thank you, my king."

"No Ptolemy. It is I who should be thanking you."

I look down to Hephaestion who is once more asleep against my chest.

"No one should wear his blood."


	5. Chapter 5

"Trust me," I tell him as I hoist him up onto the black stallion creating a foothold for his stronger leg. He seems unsure but I know it is not for lack of trust in me, but for his lack of faith in the others. He moves forward as I climb onto the horse behind him and take the bridle. I feel him adjust himself to rest against me as I nudge with my heels into a slow walk. The grooms-boys eye him with envy, wondering what he has that captivates me so. A decorated general with the beauty of Aphrodite is something to be envied indeed.

I kiss his neck as we leave the stable yard and he blushes, his untied hair blowing across his face in the summer wind.

"People will see," he warns me.

"Let them," I laugh. Though I know I should not boast too loudly. We canter forward until we reach the courtyard and the men call out with joy to see me.

They are shouting and cheering and it is good to feel loved by my people.

"Health to you, Hephaestion!"

"Beautiful Hephaestion, may the gods be with you!"

I smile at the unexpected comments and I notice that Hephaestion beams at the gathered crowd. They surge forward to touch his hand, each offering their blessing.

"They are here to see you," I murmur in his ear. Word evidently spread fast as to why the general had been missing and it was clear that although he may not be much admired by the other generals; the people sorely missed his compassionate ways.

"Thank you for your kind words," he spoke clearly. "I hope to be among you soon. Please do not fear I have forgotten you. Medicus, how is your son," he asks of one man who shines as he speaks of his child. "And Sergia, I have discussed the matter of your land with your king. He wishes to make it a gift to you and your sons. The harsh winters can be taxing enough without thinking of rent to pay. You have been a loyal servant to his majesty. We thank you."

This is not something he ever discussed with me and I wonder how often he fulfills the wishes of the people whilst giving me the credit. The elderly man kneels by our horse and gives thanks to the gods and praise to me. We carry on through the streets, greeting all those who wish to see us. Hephaestion pulls some coins from his cloak and gives them to some street children and they run after us the whole way. It is a happy day indeed and my heart swells with pride to see what a wonder of a man my love is. He grows tired however. I can feel it in his seat upon the horse and he subtly rests his weight against me.

We turn back towards home as it darkens and when I am sure that no one will see I kiss below his ear, enjoying the soft sigh of contentment I hear.

"They love you, Hephaestion. I love you."

I know he is smiling without needing to see him.

"How is your leg," I ask him gently, knowing the question would wound any other man's pride.

"Well, thank you my king."

"You do not have to call me that, my love," I tease and tickle just below his ribs. He squirms and laughs.

"If you say so, my king."


	6. Chapter 6

Bagoas has drawn a bath for me, awaiting my return and no doubt hoping I would be alone. He seems upset at the sight of Hephaestion leaning on me as I help him across the room. His leg will not be strong for months and is heavily bound in bandages against a splint. I suspect the impact reverberated through his earlier injury in that same leg and worsened the pain for him. I have yet to decide what to do with Cleitus so he remains in the cells where he is no doubt suffering through lack of comforts that his position made him accustomed to.

I put him from my mind as Bagoas steps forward, at first I believe to help Phai but then I realise he wishes to help me undress as he has been taught to do.

"Thank you Bagoas," I say tiredly with a yawn as he helps me with my sandals. I move away however before he can remove my robe.

"That will be all for tonight," I tell him, hoping he will understand that I do not wish to be unkind. He leaves without further question and I gladly strip down before climbing into the smooth and warm water. I call Hephaestion to join me and then I realise that he cannot bathe with the bandages.

"I forgot, my love," I say as I rise but he holds out a hand to stop me.

"Please, enjoy your bath Alexander. I am content to be in your company tonight. He eases himself onto the bed and despite his best efforts, falls asleep soon after. I wash myself faster than what I would otherwise and dry myself on fresh linens. I take my time to pull the braids from his hair and unfasten his tunic. We are awkwardly curled in the middle of the bed and I struggle to pull blankets over us. I kiss him on the forehead and intertwine my body with his, allowing Hypnose to pull me into sleep with him.


	7. Chapter 7

"What do you suppose he will do to Cleitus?"

"Nothing more than the brute deserves," snapped Parmenion much to everyone's surprise. "He's had it a long time coming and by the gods I swear he meant to kill that boy."

"Come now," said Perridicas. "He and Hephaestion had their disagreements but he is not a killer. He would not do that to Alexander."

"Aye, but he would do it to Hephaestion," came the growling reply. "You speak of him as though property damaged. If Alexander held no regard for him he would be as good as dead to all of you. Any one of you would have done it if you did not fear Alexander's wrath."

The men around the table stared into their flasks of wine, the feeling of shame deep within them. The elder man took his opportunity to express his views.

"Each sunrise and sunset while you feed yourselves you take to discussing each detail of his life and his accomplishments with spite and envy and yet even when Alexander asks of him his feelings towards all of you, he says nothing. Not for fear, but for respect. Because we may not love everyone in this world but we will damn well respect them! You hate him because he does not enjoy your boorish ways and bitter humour. May the gods help us all if he should try to be more like all of you."

He slams his empty cup down upon the wooden table and wraps his cloak around himself before leaving the tent.

Perridicas casts a glance towards Cassander and notes that for a grown man he very much resembles a chastised child.

"I must tend my horse," he says brusquely and casts his eyes downward so as to avoid the eyes of his fellow generals while leaving.

"Why does Cassander bear the face of the guilty one," Perridicas asked to no one in particular.

Ptolemy shrugged.

"Perhaps he saw his dream come true only to realise it was a nightmare," Leonnatus offered. They all thought in silence for a while before resuming with their jokes and dice.


	8. Chapter 8

The breakfast brought by Bagoas is one of the best I have eaten in a long time.

"This is delicious Bagoas," I tell him, knowing he is ever hungry for my praise. Like most of the men. Perhaps in a way every man never outgrows praise and approval. Otherwise it turns to contempt. The beautiful boy gives me his usual shy smile.

"How is his 'Phaestion, my king?"

I pause for a moment and then chuckle.

"Hephaestion," I correct his pronunciation, although by rights he was not wrong.

"His 'Phaestion," he says once more with a smile. It is not out of insolence, he genuinely believes he is saying it correctly. At least it is not only my name then. By the gods, the boy is having to speak in an entirely different tongue all his days, I can at least grant him some slip in pronunciation.

"Hephaestion is well Bagoas, you are kind to ask," I say with an approving smile. I know it is difficult for him, coming second to someone else. No matter what your rank in life it is hard not to wish for more. Why even Hephaestion is jealous of this boy. I take for granted at times the loyalty of this boy given that he served Darius before he came to be mine.

"Do you miss home, Bagoas," I ask him after a sip of wine. He does not falter from his activities.

"This is my home, Al'skander. With you."

His response is pure and requires no thought or construction in his heart. It warms my heart and I resolve to have some new clothes made for him.

"I am pleased to hear you say such a thing Bagoas."

"It pleases me that I have pleased you, my king."

I call him too me and motion for him to join me on the couch. He seems nervous but relaxes when I stroke his cheek.

"You are very loyal Bagoas," I say and kiss his cheek.

"I am honoured to have such a trustworthy friend," I tell him, placing emphasis on the word friend. He seems emotional in his smiling and his eyes glisten in the morning light.

"I would lay down my life for you, Al'skander."

It pains me that there is only one who I would say the same to and it is not Bagoas.

"May it never come to that," I say and kiss him lightly before asking him to help me get ready. There is much to do today, especially because of all the time I have spent with Hephaestion. My other duties became neglected. Today I must decide Cleitus' fate. It is unfair to torment him further.


	9. Chapter 9

I watch from the window as men assemble the area below in the courtyard; a large platform raised upon steps with a throne for me and chairs around for the other members of the counsel. It sits in contrast to the makeshift appearance of the court around it given it's luxurious persian style that I have no doubt belonged to Darius somewhere before. Perhaps it was his chamber pot. I laugh to myself thinking on how likely it indeed is. He was a man of luxurious tastes. That is apparent in his Hareem.

It has been a hard ride for myself and for others to return home but now I must face what I have been avoiding. Cleitus does not directly stand trial because of the ambiguity of his crime. Today I must assess what exactly he is guilty of, whether it be drunken foolishness or malicious intent. Hephaestion knew better than to advise me in his favour. He knows I act with passion but that it is matched with understanding. I would no doubt act differently however if it were anyone but Hephaestion.

I am faced with the dilemma that should I act too sternly, respect will be lost for Phai. People may believe he has swayed me to pass judgement on Cleitus for his own revenge which will cause him to be hated and feared. They will believe that he has strong influence over my actions which will place us both in a dangerous situation, here and afield. However if I do not act strongly I will be seen as favouring my generals above the law, glorying criminality for some and exercising hypocrisy when I preside over any other trial. I let out a breathe and rub my hand over my eyes to remove the dust of Hypnose.

I turn to watch Hephaestion as he slowly breathes in and out, deep in sleep. His leg pains him during the night so I encourage him to drink stronger wine. He sleeps peacefully when he does, but he sleeps so deep and for so long that I begin to worry if he will wake at all. I run my eyes over his beautiful body, naked and slightly softer than what he is usually given that he can no longer maintain his level of fitness while astride a horse. I am thankful he is able to ride or else he would be bedridden for too long.

Even looking upon him brings fond memories to me of us laying by the river. Upon reflection over the years, I had always believed that I had been the lover in our relationship. I certainly thought of him as my beloved but at times the thought comes to me of his hand reaching out to stroke mine as we lay in the grass. Perhaps Hephaestion had more dealing in the development of our relationship than I give him credit for. I smile as I recall the first sweet kiss, no more than a gentle peck and accompanied with a blush across Phai's cheeks. Thinking of the last kiss we shared makes me indeed almost blush like a woman. It is nothing as chaste as the first. Quite the opposite. I believe even now I can taste him.

He sighs a breathy moan that suits the nature of my current thoughts. We are of one soul of course. He stretches and the awkwardness of his injured leg means that as he shifts the blanket hitches up to a point that leaves little to the imagination. Not that I would need to.

I am startled when one of my squires enters the room. I feel myself smirking when I see his look of surprise in the direction of the bed.

"Yes?"

The young boy takes a moment to respond, still staring at Hephaestion.

"My King," he says nervously. "The court will be ready for you at your leisure."

I nod and give him a smile, wondering if his expression is shock at finding Hephaestion here, or interest in his naked form. It is difficult to look upon him and not to feel the soft pull of lust. I dismiss him and he leaves reluctantly, daring to cast a backward glance at the general that I have claimed as my own Patroclus. I am wary of calling Bagoas to help me so I dress myself quietly and stroke Phai's cheek to rouse him. He is groggy but cheerful as I help him dress. He laughs and smiles boyishly as I wrap the Chiton around him and press myself against him, pulling him into a far too tight embrace for his delicate ribs. He does not stop me though. I wrap an ornate belt of my own around his slim waist and he chides me as I hand him various bangles and jewels to wear.

"Alexander, we are going to a court, not to a feast. I must dress properly."

I relent and though I know we are holding up the proceedings I undress him once more before finding him something more suitable. I lace his sandals and he takes the stick I offer to him with much more dignity than the first time when he fought me and complained like a child.

It pains me to see him walk like a cripple but the doctor assured me it is only temporary and there will be little lasting damage. We leave together despite our usual routine of staggering our arrivals to prevent gossip but no doubt the squire's tongue has been overworked from telling all he sees of what he saw. At times it angers me greatly to think of all our hidden moments and shying away in order to prevent people finding out what they already know. He is my love and my ever present joy. I wish to share it with the world. To name him my consort and decorate his fingers with my crest. But he will not have it.

_"How can I be your Patroclus my dearest Achilles, when you are determined to place me as Breseis?"_

Wise and daring as ever, he had spoken softly to me one night as we reclined out on the balcony to tell me why we must be secret lovers.

_"You wish to make a wife of me, so that I will belong entirely to you by law. Surely it is greater to hold the love of one who is under no obligation."_

I sighed now as I remembered the soft feel of him in my arms as we lay beneath a silken sheet to keep off the light chill. We had recounted the stories of the skies and wondered if on our departure to the Elysian fields, the stars would tell our story.

"_Your story,"_ he had sighed with a smile and not a hint of jealousy or malice. I had kissed him then. For I couldn't find the words within me to acknowledge such undying loyalty. I am of the breed of men that desire glory and eternal remembrance. Hephaestion only desires my happiness in the here and now. He is much more worthy than I am of immortality.

He walks to my side for fear that his leg will give out and I regret the length of the walk to the court. By the time we reach it there is a light sheen to his forehead due to exertion. It strains my nerves more than any night before battle and my heart beats faster than any drummer. I worry for him though I have little cause to. I am watching him in the corner of my eye as Cleitus is fetched and forced to stand in front of the throne I sit in. I am embarrassed when he throws himself at my feet and begs my forgiveness.

"My king, I am a drunken fool and I am not worthy of your forgiveness but I beg of you to consider the years of service I have so loyally devoted to you and your campaign. I have trespassed on our friendship and it grieves me to have hurt you."

Each word is perfectly constructed but spoken with true fear. This is clearly a man who does not wish to be punished. I take very little time to think on what I wish to say. Usually I discuss everything with Hephaestion and my thoughts are clear but in this instance visions of Hephaestion distract me. The silken touch and tickle of his hair against my chest when he rested against me this morning.

"You apologise to me, brother? Ought you not to direct your apology to General Amyntor? The man you so savagely wounded under the guise of humour. You express no remorse toward his cause when he has been the sole reason your blood remains within the confines of your skin?"

The men present in court move forward better to hear the unfolding scene.

"You could have killed him," I say in a manner that truly conveys my horror at the thought. I note that Hephaestion looks to the floor.

"Would you have grieved Cleitus? Would you have cared?"

"Yes! My King, I am not a fiend! Hephaestion is my brother. I meant not to harm him. This you must believe, Alexander. I beg of you to forgive my sins for I am nothing without the love of my king."

He has the decency to look at Hephaestion in anguish.

"I meant not to harm you, brother."

The men turn to stare at him and he looks up in surprise, giving a nod of acknowledgement to Cleitus. To see him do it is my saving. He is the soft rain to my brush fire and I relent.

"Cleitus, friend. You need not fear punishment for your mistake. I forgive you your sin and I hope that we can move forward from this."

The relief washes through him and he allows himself some indignity in this thanks and praise.

I stand down from the platform to embrace him and there is the feel of reconciliation in each passing second. We break apart and the men begin to disperse, dissatisfied at the lack of blood shed. Hephaestion stands a few feet away looking uncertain and I move to be near him. I am surprised when he too steps forward to embrace Cleitus, giving him a kiss on his cheek and assuring him that he harbors no resentment. Cleitus understandably stares at him in awe and I can see it pains him to notice the stick Hephaestion leans on.

"Is it..?"

"It will heal," Hephaestion states simply.

Cleitus nods and wishes him good health, promising to act in every way he can to ensure Phai's comfort and recovery.

The blessed relief of the situation fills me with joy and I gather a few of my counsel men to organise a feast for the soldiers in celebration of friendship and brotherhood. They are evidently wary of hosting another event like that which led to this court but they of course do as I tell them. I watch with a light heart as Cleitus offers his arm to Hephaestion to help him to his quarters which he accepts as he would do mine. He truly is a remarkable man. I catch his eye as he passes me. The understanding between us is as clear as it has ever been. My Patroclus. Unfailing and true. He does this for me.


	10. Chapter 10

"Alexander."

Sweet Hephaestion whispers to me from the bed, trying to lure me from my planning. He truly has been sent from Hades to torment me in this world with the temptation of bliss.

"You are supposed to be sleeping, my love," I chide him and I can hear his low chuckle. I risk a glance around and I can just make out the glint of his eyes in the darkness. I had long since extinguished the lamp beside him and worked by candlelight. There was so much to be done; letters to respond to and battle plans to be decided. It was wearying work and Hephaestion would no doubt find it easy to entice me to his warmth. Nevertheless, I enjoy his efforts.

"How could I sleep when my Achilles worries?"

I smile at his use of that name. It strengthens our bond in a way. To have that comparison. For me it is a reminder that he will be here with me until the very last moment he can. For him, I believe it is a way for him to know that I cherish him above all others. I could never love anyone quite the same way in which I do him. He is not merely comfort or company. He is my heart and my soul. He is the embodiment of all the qualities I wish that I possessed.

"How could I not worry when my Patroclus is wounded?"

His hint of a smirk is the reassurance I need to see. He is not angry with me for straying from his company. He is never angry with me; even at the times when he ought to be. Instead when he speaks, he speaks in a way I will understand. He appeals to my passions and never makes a fool of me. I rise from the table and sit on the edge of the bed as he reclines; stretching out a hand to brush his fingers against the fabric of my robe.

I touch his finger with my own. It is gentle and almost akin to our nervousness when our love first blossomed. His eyes shine up at me and he looks to be peaceful here.

"I worry that a heavy battle would be the worse for you if you have not yet recovered from your injuries," I tell him quietly. If he had spoken the words to me I should have laughed at him, demanded he bring me my sword so that I can demonstrate my capability. But that is not Hephaestion. He feels nothing to prove, only guilt for being the cause of any distress on my part.

"You wish me not to fight?"

I watch the glint of our rings as our fingers dance together and I am annoyed at myself when I nod.

"How could I face the enemy when the enemy is my own fear for you?"

"You truly are Achilles," he says dryly. "Perhaps I shall simply slip on your armour and go to war. We shall truly be the myth then," he laughs. He blinks in surprise when I clasp his hand in mine.

"I have said it before, a thousand times my love. If you should fall I will follow you."

"To the Elysian fields," he nods with a sigh.

"No. Anywhere. Even to the gates of Hades. I am nothing without you," I tell him. My eyes burn and I have to blink to contain myself. He cannot understand how it feels to look upon him and remember each moment as children that he corrected me. Each time he showed me where I could be stronger and better. When he was the only person I let hold me when the world became too much. When he became my world; my sunrise and evening moon.

He does not protest when I move to lean over him. Our eyes lock and he is showing me that he needs me as he parts his lips hopefully. It almost makes me laugh and as I lean down to press my lips to his, he whimpers. I still from the noise that sets panic within me.

"Have I hurt you? What's wrong, my love?"

"You have not hurt me. It is the thought of losing this; of losing you, that hurts me. This is surely paradise and I will awaken like every other morning."

I pull back a little.

"You dream of me, Phai?"

Even in the darkness I can tell he is blushing.

"Always my king. There is no other."

That is the spark that kindles the fire in me until it burns brighter than a thousand suns. He cries out when I can no longer take being apart from him and ravage his lips with my own. It is sloppy and unskilled and does no justice to the art of lovemaking and still Hephaestion moans and sighs as though he is a love-struck boy once again. The thought that he is mine and mine alone creates a passion in me. I want to ensure that he knows he is my Erastes. Everyone else pales in comparison to his beauty and his charm.

I pull back the sheets, pleased that on this fine night there was no need for underclothes. He gives me a smile so warm it throws me off guard for a moment. I smile back and I feel carefree. I revel in the shiver he gives as I smooth my hands along his thighs, starting above the bandages on his leg and ensuring I do not cause him discomfort. He allows me to gently nip at his hip bones and lick at his flesh.

His hands reach down to meet mine at his waist and he arches his back into my touch. I am teasing him, I know. I love the feeling of control he affords me but I love the challenge he presents. Unlike the Eunuch boy, Hephaestion is not here for my pleasure. Each moan and bite of his lip is genuine. He does not let me win here as he never did whilst wrestling.

"More," he says simply. I oblige and step down in my role as King. With Phai I am simply Alexander and in a very un-kingly fashion I take him in my mouth. I relish the deep groan he gives and I force myself to watch as his eyes roll back in pure pleasure. I suppose he is saying my name but it all sounds quite garbled and breathy. I hear the word 'good' and pick up the pace in the way that after all our years as lovers, I know drives him wild. His breath quickens and his hands clench mine tightly. I pull away and his eyes snap open to look at me.

"Alexander," he whines, knowing from experience where this leads but still unhappy about the absence of release. I silence him with a look as I retrieve some oil, saying nothing as I help him to turn over. It will be easier on his leg this way. I make very little show of it and force my fingers in, feeling pleasure and guilt as he cries out from my ministrations. It is not long however before his quiet moans of discomfort give way to shivers of pleasure. He leans back into my touch and turns his head so that I may kiss him languidly. I use a little more oil to cover myself and enter him as gently as I can, laying atop him and threading my arms through his to hold him to me. The darkness heightens each sound and sensation.

His skin is warm and smooth under my touch, the feel of his lips on mine; wet but firm. The furs beneath us provide a gentle caress and his silken hair glides across my cheek as I lean in to gently nip at his ear. Being this close I feel the vibration of his moans and they pulse through me. His hands reach behind him to rest on my sides and I distract myself from the familiar yet exquisite feel of him as I allow him to adjust. I feel a moment of pity for the boy Bagoas that he does not experience this kind of love with someone. For with Hephaestion I feel I know my place in this world, and that I will not be alone in the next. My mother had told me he was a gift to me from the gods, someone loyal to stay beside me as I conquered the world. No one else compares.

I find myself thinking on Cleitus and how he had reached out to stroke Hephaestion's face, calling him to his bed. I cannot take it any longer and the remembrance of Cleitus makes me want to claim the man beneath me. To remind him, myself and anyone else who should question it, who is heart belongs to. Who his mind belongs to. Who is body belongs to. I move erratically and with force and I can tell I have taken Phai by surprise but he does not protest. The pleasure it gives me is indescribable. From the sensations, yes, but more from the idea that he will do anything to please me and to ensure my happiness.

He tries to say my name but each thrust cuts him off until he is simply grunting from the exertion. Reaching forward I wrap my arm around his neck in a choking hold and his muscles tense as he takes in the situation. I feel every minute movement as his body contracts and then relaxes. The hold I have on him is so intimate. He is trusting me not to hurt him and I oblige, kissing his neck and panting into his ear to show him the pleasure he gives me.

"I love you," I manage to say though it sounds strangled. It is almost as though it is my words that send him into a violent climax and I am sure the guards outside the door are trying their best either to listen attentively or ignore completely. If they did not know it was General Amyntor in the room with me I am sure they would presume I was being murdered given the sounds.

"Oh gods, Alexander," he whispers as his muscles spasm. I hold onto him tightly, holding off my own release to be sure that he is alright. I move to withdraw from him but he stills me with a gentle touch.

"Proceed," he says and I can hear it is with a smirk. I do not move and he practically growls at me.

"Damn it, Alexander. Move!"

It is all the assurance I need and I am more forceful than I intended as I use him to reach my own climax. He whimpers loudly, no doubt from the over-stimulation but he does not stop me. I feel his body relax when I do withdraw but we do not move from our intimate embrace.

"We haven't done that since-"

I hush him and smile. I recall the last time well. We have of course been together quite frequently over the last while but I know he means the very first time. We had stayed out to look at the stars, to tell the stories of the heroes and I could no longer hide my feelings for him; my most devoted of friend. The most captivating and the most beautiful. It had been rather embarrassing, messy and no doubt painful for Hephaestion. But it is the fondest memory I have and I hope the very last thought I have in this life.

"I remember well enough, Patroclus."

He stretches beneath me and I kiss the nape of his neck. We lay entwined together until I shift to my side so as to be more comfortable. I marveled at my fortune to have him as my own and offered up a silent prayer of thanks to the gods. Without him I would be nothing.

I kiss his nose and he grins like a child. I laugh when he steals a kiss from my lips and entwines our fingers before closing his eyes and allowing Hypnose to lead him away.

"Dream of me," I whisper and join him.


	11. Chapter 11

"Alexander looks well today," Perridicas remarks to the men surrounding him. They acknowledge him and glance to their king, pleased to see that he is in high spirits this morning. In his usual manner he walks among the soldiers, greeting them and joking with them. He makes them feel important and they flock to him as though the night-flies to the flame.

The sounds and movements of the training grounds create a lively atmosphere and the day is young and full of promise. The smell of metal and smoke sways throughout from the blacksmiths, mingling with the masculine scents and the vendors of warm bread. Men sit in clusters or carry out their drills, feeling the blessed relief of a simple chiton instead of their armour. Many turn as Alexander walks through and although his aim is to speak with his generals, he turns no man away.

Ptolemy and Cassander laugh openly when some of the soldiers sneak up behind him and douse him with a bucket of water. His expression is one of merriment and youthful play and it is a pleasure to see him this way.

"Well, we can thank Hephaestion for such a joyous Alexander this day," Cassander smirks and Perridicas looks at him quizzically.

"How so?"

The other men look at each other and raise their eyebrows.

"Any morning that Alexander leaves his bed with a smile, you can be sure he leaves a sleeping Hephaestion," Ptolemy says with a wink.

Perridicas' eyes widen in understanding and he looks to Alexander as he approaches.

"Good health to you all," Alexander says lightly, his golden hair catching the light just so and making it appear as though he holds the sun.

"And to you, Alexander," Cassander replies, casting a glance to the activities around them and swatting a fly away from his face.

"I trust you are well, my King," Ptolemy asks, knowing that it does indeed sound as suggestive aloud as it did in his mind.

Alexander is not one to be bashful and the grin he gives them is one of triumph and glory. More so than after any battle they had shared with him.

"I am indeed well, Ptolemy. My men are happy and rested and today we shall enjoy some Games. Could you speak to one of the coin-keepers and arrange some prizes for the competitors?"

The generals assure him that they will and they are about to go their separate ways when they catch sight of Hephaestion weaving his way through the discus throwers with the aid of Cleitus.

'Now that is a sight I never thought I would see,' Ptolemy thinks to himself.

He no longer carries the stick but his limp is pronounced even if his face hides it. He is smiling shyly and Cassander thinks on how sweet he looks. An excess of love surely only adds to the young man's beauty. His hair is pulled away from his face and he wears a simple chiton as the soldiers do. Cassander supposes that this makes him all the more attractive to Alexander. A decorated general who relates to his men in the same way that Alexander aims to. Though the way Hephaestion carries himself sets him apart so well. His appearance almost makes him feel embarrassed to wear his new cloak of fine Persian cloth.

He beams at Alexander and the generals feel they are intruding on a moment so private that it would only take place in the bedchamber. Their gaze is broken when he winces slightly and leans on Cleitus but quick as lightning Alexander is by his side to support him. He whispers to him to be sure he is alright before dismissing the men to their duties. He sets some unimportant task for Cleitus so that he may be alone with his love.

"You must have new sandals," Alexander insists as he examines the worn down sole of the sandal rather awkwardly laced around the bandages. Phai only smiles at him. He is too captivated by his lover to care about the words spoken from his lips. The lips so soft and full yet those same lips that make battle cries and speeches to last through the ages. The King traces his fingers over the hip-bones of his Erastes and he is surprised to hear calls from some of the men. He had forgotten himself in public. He turns to determine which soldiers he must admonish but he is unable to tell which individuals spoke out. He would fail to be angry however. They are right. He is beautiful.

The afternoon creeps in and the King laughs freely while enjoying the Games so hastily put together. The comedians speak with wit and intelligence and he can barely choose one from the other. In the end he chooses the youngest boy who he noted last time was nervous and quiet. Perhaps this will boost his confidence in his abilities. He insists that Hephaestion sits on the chair next to him facing the stage and as he sips at his summer wine he holds his lovers hand. Only some men glance at them in their bliss, others are so used to the coupling that they barely take note. Few begrudge him his happiness though. He has suffered through war as the rest of them, choosing not to govern from afar- but to really fight at the front line along with his men. For this they will always have his loyalty.

Hephaestion smiles as though a bride on her wedding day and whilst the King laughs and watches the performance, the general watches him. His features are blurred with a hazy contentment and surprising to those around them, he matches the King's drinking cup for cup. No one could deny that they radiate in each other's presence. They epitomise youthful beauty and strong pride.

The actors make their bows to the King and he stands to speak to them.

"What a fine performance you have given this day! And given so little time to prepare you were so polished. Some might suspect you had even rehearsed it," he says with a smirk.

There is a burst of laughter from the gathered crowd and Alexander smiles.

"How could I possibly be forced to choose a winner from such a fine selection? Why even my father Zeus would find it difficult. But nevertheless, a winner we must have!"

He takes a wreath from one of the soldiers behind him and steps down to the platform the actors performed on and steps up to the proclaimed winner. An aged man who took to acting when he had served his career as a soldier. The men surrounding suspect he has chosen him to glory his pride, needed much more than the others but they acknowledge the win graciously. Alexander embraces him and hands him his prize, a significant sum that will no doubt be spent by the evening.

He makes his way back to the high throne to watch the athletes compete and he rests his hand on Phai's thigh. Some of the men cheer and he seems almost shy, nodding for the athletics to begin. The young boys set an astonishing pace and Alexander declares that each should have a prize for having shamed the King into bettering his own training.

"Should our enemies ever retreat from us, we know who to send after them," he jokes to them and they glow with pride. One of the young boys steps after him as he goes to take his seat once more. His voice is quiet but can be heard by most in the arena.

"My King?"

Alexander turns to him and is surprised when the young boy holds out an amulet on a chain. He bends to one knee as a sign of respect and holds it out to him.

"A tribute to Hypnose that is said to bring sleep easier. For I hear that his majesty is kept awake at night."

He looks up to where Hephaestion is seated and although the general had been distracted his interest is held once more and he sits up. There is complete silence as the crowd takes in what has been said. The men watch Alexander nervously and tension mounts as he steps towards the boy. Mutters of 'insolence' can be heard and 'how dare he'. He reaches out his hand and takes the delicate chain. He lets out a mountainous laugh and pulls the young lad to his feet.

"An athlete and a comedian," he roars with a twinkle in his eyes, holding up the amulet and grasping the young boy around the shoulders in an embrace. "I am always honoured by a gift. Though you are mistaken, for last night I slept like a babe!"

Hephaestion almost chokes on his wine which for the men only adds to the comedy and they stamp their feet and laugh freely. Alexander moves with an easy grace and steps off the platform as the boy runs off to assure his friends that their little joke gave the king cause to laugh. He steps past the serving women and stands in front of Hephaestion. The crowd cheers in general merriment and Hephaestion feels the gentle warmth of the wine flow through his blood. Alexander, who ought to have been a performer himself, turns to take in their excitement and gives them all a look that is almost challenging.

"Kiss him," comes a cry from the stands and he is reminded of the call to kiss Bagoas after his dance. He knows this is different however. Looking down he sees that Hephaestion avoids his gaze, focusing on his emptying wine cup and no doubt wishing he could disappear. Time and again they have discussed why they must remain to the world only comrades and the reasoning is logical and sound. But right now logic and reason are distant friends to Alexander and in a show of his masculine strength he pulls Hephaestion from his seat into a tight hold.

He feels him gasp and he fists his hand into the beautiful brunette locks before kissing him deeply. There is silence around them as he tastes the sweet berries on his lovers lips. The delicate flavours of the wine and the salty tang that he suspects is from olives in the serving dishes. He feels the weave of the fabric that makes Phai's chiton and he is grateful for its design as he can smooth his war toughened hands over the soft and yielding flesh of his back. The muscles are still taught despite not being so rigorously trained and Hephaestion responds forcefully to the kiss. He traces Alexander's lips with his tongue before demanding entrance, curling under his upper lip before pulling it into his mouth. It drives Alexander wild and he feels breathless already. The hands that cup his face are soft and smooth, yet the callused feel to them assures them that they are Phai's.

He pulls back and looks into his lover's eyes, mesmerised as ever by the clear and soulful blue framed so delicately by sweeping lashes. He is met with a look of complete and utter adulation and it is clear that love like this cannot be anything but pure and beautiful. They are so wrapped in their own private moment that they still do not hear the cheers of the men until they finally tear their eyes from each other and blush like young boys. The crowd begins to chant their names and toast to their health and Alexander's heart swells with love for his men.

In good humour he takes another wreath and places it rather clumsily onto Hephaestion whose laugh begins to resemble more of a feminine giggle. Suddenly the games that had been so entertaining to Alexander are now in the way of other activities he would much rather partake in. If he has learned anything from being in Persia though, it is to be mannerly and so he stays until the end of the games and the final announcement of prizes. Ptolemy simply laughs as the pair try to slip away unnoticed without realising they are the most watched men in all of Greece right now and with Hephaestion's limp they are very conspicuous. No one stops them however. They do not wish to face Alexander's wrath when his blood no longer flows in an upward direction.

Everyone is in high spirits and the serving boys and girls suddenly become the focus of the evening as dancing and music commence. The two young men do not go to the chambers as everyone assumes however. Instead they slip away to the gardens that are perfumed with the sweet fragrance of flowers and steal away to the shade of an olive tree. For an hour or more they simply sit and recall times throughout their youth, joking and smiling; flirting and dancing. For their love is more than physical affection, more than lust and more than a marriage. Their touches are but a gentle caress, and their kisses as chaste as those they had in the beginning. As the stars alight they both think of Achilles and Patroclus, knowing the other is doing the same. Alexander stands and helps Hephaestion up, interlocking their fingers and leading him towards their quarters. He chuckles to himself at the thought of the amulet.

"What is it, my love?"

Telling him it is nothing, he pushes the hair back from his Phai's face, pecking him on the lips.

"I simply think your chiton would go very well with the floor tiles."

Hephaestion chuckles to himself and looks to his lover with devotion.

"Perhaps, my King."


	12. Chapter 12

Bagoas watches from the doorway as Alexander kisses his love. A strong hand, garnished with rings, that glint in the light of the lanterns, reaches up to cup a lightly stubbled cheek. There is the sound of music from the distant festivities. The music that Bagoas would dance to but tonight he is hidden away. His own curiosity has damned him as he sees the love between the King and his Phaestion.

He wonders what the man has that he does not. What is it that the King loves in him that he does not love in Bagoas. But the answer echoes around the chamber and strikes the eunuch hard in his heart. He has never felt an arrow through his flesh but he imagines it is akin to this. The answer is everything. He has lain awake and imagined the different world where Alexander smiles to see him because he cares for him above all others. To feel the heat of his gaze with the same fiery passion. To see the gentle side to the brave and noble King. But that world does not exists for him and it pains him to see someone else live there so freely.

He has heard the stories from the young squires, from the men who forget his existence because they deem him invisible. They speak of Achilles and his Patroclus. Alexander had told him the story once on an eve when he was warm and drunk and pleased to have his company. Even then Bagoas listened and thought, 'Am I Patroclus? To be loved so purely and for eternity in paradise?' But it was not him. It was Hephaestion.

Has he not been loyal to his King? Does the king not find him entertaining? He certainly lusts for him and that is obvious for all to see. Bagoas has given service to the King without fail despite having served Darius before him. He never loved Darius in the way he loves Alexander but he wonders if it ever occurs to the king that he could have been a traitor.

As he watches Alexander slip off Hephaestion's robe he thinks on all the times when he has remained still, passive, as his clothes were taken from him. As he was touched, maneuvered and caressed, molested and held down. He tries not to think about the hands that held him as they castrated him to hold his youthful beauty. The pain he endured and would endure again so that the path would again lead him to Alexander. What was so different about Hephaestion's love?

'I am nothing,' he reminds himself. It is best for him when he does not forget that. He knows it is wrong but he does not leave. He cannot bring his feet to move and so he remains hidden in the chamber; his stomach twisting as he listens to their sounds of lovemaking. And it is just that. With Bagoas, the King has sex. And he feels the difference only as far as his inexperience in the former allows. He wonders what it is like to be loved. To be the world of another. Would Alexander allow him that? He is a possessive man and Bagoas cannot imagine the King letting his eunuch belong to anyone else. Bagoas himself cannot imagine belonging to anyone else.

'I am nothing,' he says again. He feels warm tears upon his cheeks and wipes them away with his hand. The King is satisfied and holds his lover close to him as they sleep. Bagoas creeps out from his hiding place and slips through the door. The squires appear confused. Had they not heard Hephaestion? Bagaas does not look to them but slips away to his own room and lays down upon the small bed. It is an age to him before sleep comes. His chant of 'I am nothing' makes it feel even longer. But it is no matter. He is nothing.


	13. Chapter 13

He awoke to the feeling of something tickling his nose. He kept his eyes closed for they felt heavy and laced with the dust of Hypnose. The sensation went on even after he had pulled away from it and he had to relent and rouse himself. Ah, it was Alexander, using the long brunette hair to tickle him.

"Your hair is getting long, my love," he hears the whisper of his Achilles and sighs contentedly. Stretching languidly his muscles contract in a pleasant way, reminiscent of the night before. He looks into the eyes of Alexander and they are so close their noses almost touch. Hephaestion can feel that connection between them that begins in Alexander's heart and ends in his.

"Shall I cut it off for you, my King?"

"Don't ever dare!"

He feels Alexander's fingers card through it and it almost makes him purr. The feeling of this closeness after the long months on the march and at Gaugamela when Hephaestion had repeatedly stretched himself out on the King's bed, but the King was busy stretching out maps and battle plans upon the table. His mind was an endless war and he barely took the time to eat or sleep let alone relax. Now Alexander lightly kisses his lips, then his cheeks. He places a kiss so gentle on each eyelid before hungrily devouring his mouth until Hephaestion struggles to breathe.

Times like this are rare and precious to them both. For once they leave here they must be leaders and brave warriors once more. They must lead an army and plan battles and sieges with military precision. Here, however, their only task is one of pleasure. Hephaestion remembers how they would lay as young boys and he is grateful to have such memories to comfort him on the cold and lonely nights.

It would begin with some watered wine at supper and they would listen to Alexander's mother tell them stories of the great heroes. shadows dancing around the chambers and the soft music of the lyre. He always thinks on the expression on Alexander's face when she spoke of the great Achilles. Even now Hephaestion sees the lasting effect of her tales and he wonders if this had been her intention all along. Why raise him to be Achilles and not expect him to find a Patroclus. Hephaestion used to just watch his eyes shine with the thought of it and he would think of it fondly when they were at the training grounds or whilst learning. Alexander had always been handsome but his charm and charisma would ensnare you to him. Hephaestion never left his side and never wished to. He imagines now that if he had, his mother would have been displeased.

They would bid Olympias goodnight, she would kiss Alexander's cheeks and then Hephaestion's for Hephaestion had no mother but still deserved the love of one. They would head towards their separate chambers and each would lay awake believing the other was sound asleep. They would toss and turn in their fine bedclothes, relight and extinguish their lanterns and step out onto their balcony's for some air. But sleep would evade them still.

The first time, Hephaestion had his feet to the floor, wrestling with himself as to whether he dared. A knock had come at the door then and when he permitted entrance, Alexander came quietly into the room.

"I cannot sleep," he had stated simply. Hephaestion told him that he could not sleep either.

"Perhaps it is cold," he had suggested and Hephaestion simply nodded.

"May I," he had made a nod towards the bed. Hephaestion moved over and held up the blanket for Alexander to climb in. They had done this as boys and yet it was strange to them now. Different somehow. They lay for a while, saying nothing until finally Alexander whispered into the darkness to determine if Phai was asleep.

"No, Alexander. I am awake."

"As am I."

They were both thinking of the other's gentle gaze, and of their hands touching as they lay by the river and of each stolen glance. Hephaestion felt Alexander's hand grasp his and he heard more than saw his head turn to look a him through the darkness. They said nothing. Alexander moved closer until their noses touched and their legs entwined. His heart had beat so loudly he wondered how the prince could not hear it. His legs shook even though he did not stand on them. His hands began to sweat and his thoughts became a blur.

"I.."

Alexander stops and bites at his lip.

Hephaestion doesn't say anything, afraid to spook the stubborn and wily prince.

"I had hoped you felt it too."

The joy within Hephaestion to hear it then had been too much to contain and though he had never done it before and was not entirely sure how, he kissed him. It was as awkward as could be expected but sweeter than you could imagine.

Alexander had groaned with the physical relief he felt to know that his feelings were returned. The feelings he had tried to hide for years for fear of losing his best friend. Already at seventeen Hepheastion was a beauty to behold but modest and quiet. For so long he had lusted after his taught physique, his deep blue eyes and long tresses. He imagined the sounds he made in the training arena to be the sounds he made for him and him alone. How he wanted him. But he held lust for more than Hephaestion. No, it was not just lust. He trusted him above all else. He pined for his company like no other. When he was angry, Hephaestion was the only one who could calm him, reason with him or scold him.

He could not bear to lose him. And so he stayed silent on his true feelings though each day it pained him.

The serving girls flocked to them both, perhaps out of curiosity for the rumours that they bedded none of them. The rumours were what kept Alexander sane. Because if he could not have Hephaestion no one could. There was hope for them.

They lay now as they had then, with the same shy glances and utter devotion. They had grown. They had seen battle and killed for their country. They held an empire and still the most resounding and notable achievement was the solidity of their love. Alexander felt remorse at times like this when he lay with his lover. How cruel he had been. How selfish of him. He did not deserved the beautiful man he held in his arms.

"I love you, Hephaestion," he whispered as he kissed his forehead. He was rewarded with an enchanting smile. "I have been a fool my love."

He smiles when Hephaestion does not correct him. Well, at least he is honest.

"Tonight, you and I shall have dinner," he tells him, already pleased himself by the prospect. "Alone."

"I shall look forward to it. What I do not look forward to is controlling my men after your displays of affection at the games."

He says it in humour because it is nearly impossible for him to be angry with the King.

"They are all envious, Phai. You do not see the way they look at you."

Alexander does not mean for it to sound so childish but it does.

Phai seems confused as ever at the thought that he attracts attention. Being raised alongside a prince always cast him in the shadow and being in the light dazzles him.

"My devotion is to you, my King. Now, let me up so that I can tend my duties before supper."

They dress slowly, each admiring the others form with furtive glances from Hephaestion and shameless staring from Alexander. He does so love the light tint of blush on Hephaestion's cheeks.

"Until supper my love," he says with a gentle kiss and Hephaestion leaves with only a slight limp and a very noticeable smile.


	14. Chapter 14

Ptolemy was usually one of the first to rise in the morning suns, but as he entered the tent to dine on some figs for breakfast he was greeted by Alexander and some of the foot soldiers. They delighted in the company of their king and they fought over each other to joke with him or sit near him. Ptolemy had to laugh at the happy smile on Alexander's face to be in such high regard with these men.

"Health to you Ptolemy, won't you join us," Alexander asked him merrily. His companion relented and a seat was reluctantly made for him beside the King.

"I must confess Alexander, I did not expect to see you rise so early today. I was under the impression you would be otherwise engaged," he teased in reference to his absence at supper with the rest of the generals last night. He and Hephaestion had never shown and they had very little doubt that they were indeed together and probably not concerned with supper. The rest of the men are quiet as they look to Alexander.

"Well Ptolemy, it is quiet easy to lose track of time when wandering the Elysian Fields. What to you is morning, to me is night," he smirked and took a gulp of his sweet wine. Ptolemy laugh heartily, ever impressed by Alexander's wit and good nature. His men roared with laughter and chided Ptolemy in good humour.

"Is it true, Alexander?"

All present turned to look at the young soldier who had spoken. No more than sixteen but a good fighter.

"General Amyntor is your erastes?"

He said it in a tone of reverence where most would say it with scorn. It surprised Alexander to hear it said that way. It was as though the boy was sitting at his mother's skirts asking for a story. The man beside him pinched his ear in reprimand but Alexander asked him to release him.

"My King," Ptolemy interrupted the carry on. "We must see to the demands of the morning."

Alexander nodded and finished his wine and the rest of the men followed suit as they clambered from the benches. The King hugged them each in turn which although not strange to Ptolemy, it did seem unnecessary. He left the young boy until last, no doubt to show that their was no offence made. Ptolemy held the tent curtain for the rest of the men, watching Alexander with one eye.

"What is your name?"

"Anatolios," he said quietly.

Ptolemy turned to see Alexander had placed both hands on the boys shoulders.

"I should like you to join me for supper this evening Anatolios," he said.

The boy was evidently stunned and stammered his thanks to the king.

"Very good, I shall send a page for you when it is being served."

Ptolemy almost laughed when the boy left the tent on unsteady legs.

"You know he'll even be telling the serving girls, Alexander. What has brought this on?"

"I see something pure in him, Ptolemy. Something I recognised. It feels, familiar, safe in a way."

"You see yourself," Ptolemy asks as they leave the tent and squint in the morning light.

The King laughs heartily.

"Oh Ptolemy, you know there is no purity in me. No, I believe I see Hephaestion.

Ptolemy stops in his tracks for a moment.

"You wish to take him as an erastes," his tone conveys his shock. The same expression on Alexander's face.

"No, Ptolemy. I don't. I simply wish for someone who cares to listen when I speak of my true erastes."

His tone is clipped and wounded and Ptolemy does not wish to offend him further.

"Your men adore you Alexander," he says as he strokes his ego. "They fought to be near you this morning. I'm sure there are a great many who would love to hear of your happiness. Admittedly, your generals have failed you in this way."

It seems to calm him and they begin to discuss the business of the day with no resentment between them. He leaves Alexander with the other generals and makes his way to the royal tent. He makes his way inside as quietly as possible. The page boys look concerned at his entrance but seeing his cloak and pin they do not turn him away.

He stands by the large bed and watches the sleeping Hephaestion. Sweet, beautiful, strong and intelligent Hephaestion. If he were only but one of a list he would not be half as envied, hated or excluded. Should he be beautiful but idiotic the men would understand the King's lust. If he were intelligent but horrid they would see the King's practicality. If he were strong but ugly they would know of the King's fears. But instead he was as though a gift from the gods with the mindset of a mere mortal.

His face was a though carved from marble and set with Tanzanite eyes. His beautiful dark hair that flowed in waves across the pillow, a stray hair or two gracing his cheeks. Alexander must truly be the son of Zeus to be granted such a gift. He was endlessly loyal, daringly brave and giving of his affection. Not just to Alexander. There had been many a time when Cleitus had pulled the young general into his lap and given him affectionate kisses, stroking his hair and praising his beauty. Hephaestion never became angry or hurtful. He had always laughed and pledged his loyalty to Alexander whilst placating him with a kiss and a smile.

Ptolemy started just then when he heard voices approaching the tent. His first thought was to hide but the pages had seen him. Gently he roused Hephaestion who was too sleepy to be confused by his presence.

"Hephaestion, I didn't mean to rouse you but the duties of your infantry need attending too before the meeting this afternoon."

Ptolemy was thankful this was indeed true and Hephaestion muttered his apologies for having slept in. A moment later Alexander and Cleitus entered the tent and paused, looking to Ptolemy and then Hephaestion who was still fully naked but only half awake.

"I'm sorry Alexander, I'll tend to it now," he said with a yawn as one of the pages stepped forward with a robe for him. The King looked concerned but only Cleitus voiced it.

"There was no need to wake him, Ptolemy."

Ptolemy almost laughed at the way Cleitus favours the King to make up for his past mistakes. It is clear to all that Hephaestion is dear to Cleitus and that jealousy and wine got the better of him at the time but now he had taken every opportunity to be near him. Evidently he was displeased with Ptolemy's presence there.

"My apologies, my King," Ptolemy said with a nod towards Alexander as he leaves the tent; his heart still racing.


	15. Chapter 15

Faint marks of footprints could be seen in the gathered sand on each crumbling, stone step. Small beetles scurried here and there, the sunlight bouncing off their wings. He was careful not to stand on them. Not just here, but everywhere. The task was easier without the sandals but the ground was hot beneath his feet and was beginning to grow uncomfortable. They were thankful for the blessed relief of the shadowed and cool tiles inside.

At last. No matter how many times he came here, he was always amazed. Always in awe. The shrine was small but beautiful. An ornate and faded cushion rested in the corner and he placed it before the shrine to kneel. His leg still gave him some pain when placed under stress and he was glad of the small comfort. He lit the lamp beneath the statue and rested his hands on his knees, bowing his head and praying.

The temple was nested in the folds of a cave, hidden to most who never followed the path. Of course the large temples at Babylon and in Pella were crowded and well funded and beautiful. But Hephaestion was Athenian even if he shared his soul with the Macedonian prince. It was Athena's wisdom that saved him so many times and her guidance that protected all he cared for. He was glad of this small space to think, to reflect. The only person he told was Alexander and that was so he would not worry. Alexander was not the praying type. He believed the importance was in the doing, not in asking for help from the gods or reflecting. He honoured them greatly, gave thanks to them endlessly and fought for them valiantly. But the gods did so smile on Hephaestion to see the young soldier so wise as to ask for wisdom.

Evening approached and shadows began to dance around the small temple. It almost seemed as though Athena were present there in the statue as the light seemed to make her move.

"Sweet Athena, glorious goddess. I ask you to hear me. Protect your brother Alexander and bestow upon him the glory of victory in battle."

His intake of breath echoed loudly as pain coursed through his leg. Visions from his dream played over and over in front of him. The whinny of Bucephalus as he reared in panic, the Armour clad figure falling slowly to the ground. Everything was red around him and screams surrounded them. Alexander had looked to him, confused. He didn't know how or why but Hephaestion knew he had failed his king. Was it a vision or merely the tormented thoughts of a man now so intoxicated with alcohol believed by his lover to be medicinal.

He was overwhelmed by his current situation and sobbed heartily.

"I beg of you to keep him from harm until his destiny is fulfilled. Let his dream be realised, let him bear sons and share his vision with the world. If he is son of Zeus, the mighty Achilles; then I am Patroclus. If blood must be shed, let it be mine and I will journey to the River Stix with a heavy heart but a happy soul. Give me wisdom to advise him my lady."

Hephaestion could not bear the sorrow in his heart at the vision of his Alexander, fallen. He listened to the silence, inwardly begging for some sign that he had been heard.

"That is not why you have come, Hephaestion."

Startled, he looked up at the statue. How could it be? There was a laugh behind him and he turned sharply, twisting his leg and doubling over in pain. He was blinded by the pain for a moment but felt hands assisting him to raise himself up. Given the age difference Hephaestion had pride enough to be embarrassed. Of course the statue had not spoken to him. A man he did not know was in the temple with him.

Hephaestion very nearly ordered him to declare himself but when he glanced up he could see he was no threat. He wore a blue sash that seemed familiar to Hephaestion somehow. He saw him looking at it and confirmed for him.

"Yes, my boy. I am a priest."

He was elderly but he had a kind face and a calming demeanor.

"You startled me. I did not believe anyone else came here."

Hephaestion was annoyed at himself for sounding so childish.

"Once I tend to my other duties I find myself at some leisure. This is as beautiful a spot as any to spend one's time."

They shared a look of agreement before he spoke again.

"I do not mean to pry, my boy. But I overheard your prayer and I must say it was very moving."

Hephaestion cast his eyes down and rested on the cushion once more.

"Thank you."

"But it is not what you wish to ask, is it?"

He looked Hephaestion in the eyes, giving him a nod and a gentle smile.

"The gods know what is in your heart."

"How do you know my name," Hephaestion asked suddenly. "You called me by name earlier. How do you know it?"

"It would take a stranger to the city to not know your name."

Phai nodded and blushed given his paranoia of someone trying to help him.

"Tell me, what is it that you really wish to ask our goddess? Your cause is noble, no one can doubt that. But only she can grant your true desire and only she will know if it is your path."

The young soldier watched as the hairs along his arms and his shins raised from the cool breeze in the cave. It dawns on him that he did not bring a lantern to guide his way back.

"I can trust you," he asks the elderly man with a smile. He receives a nod in reply.

"I do wish for Alexander to be safe, but there is something I want above everything."

The priest nods.

"Tell her," he says with a gesture towards the marble statue.

Hephaestion looks to her gentle face in the lamplight.

"Athena. I am your humble servant and I will do all I can to protect Alexander, to help him fulfill his destiny. But please, find it in your heart to understand my selfish and ungodly request. It is one of a coward but you know what is in my heart," he glances toward the old man who encourages him.

"Let me die first. I cannot live in a world without Alexander and I am selfish enough a man to force him to bear the sorrow of our separation. He believes it will be our fate as Achilles and Patroclus. When the time is right, I wish to take my leave. To fulfill this...prophecy."

There is a long silence between them then.

"You do not believe you are the heroes Achilles and Patroclus?"

The old man is surprised when Hephaestion looks to him with tears in his eyes. They are exaggerated in the dancing light. His hair falls over his face as he shakes his head.

"I made a promise. To his mother. She made me swear to her that I would be loyal."

He laughed then.

"She need not have asked. Alexander is my sun, my world. He is as great as Achilles, perhaps greater. And I honour the heroes. But if his mother had not filled our heads with the stories of Homer, who would we be then. We would be Alexander and Hephaestion. As we always were."

He takes a deep breath then.

"But he takes strength in Achilles. And if this 'prophecy' will keep him strong when I am gone, then I wish to do everything to make it come true. And so I must die first."

He begins to lace his sandals and wipes his face with the back of his hand. He looks to the statue as he pulls his cloak around himself.

"Hephaestion?"

He turns to the priest whilst in the doorway.

"Health to you," he says with a nod towards the young man's leg.

"And to you," he replies with a smile before making his way back to the palace.


	16. Chapter 16

The King poured a generous amount of wine into the young man's cup and refilled his own. Anatloios was astounded by the luxury of the king's quarters. Everything shone in bronze and golds in the light of the oil lamps. There were ornate boxes of fruits and sweet meats and a great many books in binding.

"Thank you, my King."

Alexander smiled as he rested back on the couch opposite him, dressed in a fine red robe and the usual rings he wore.

"You are welcome, Anatolios," he replied and lifted some bread to eat, nodding at the boy to eat from the platter that was piled high with every food suitable for a king. He wondered what his comrades would think if they were to be here instead of him. In Alexander's army they were well fed and well paid but being surrounded by such oppulence was overwhelming. To Anatolios, it made it all the more incredible that Alexander could be found bunking with them in the harshest of marches, sharing their meager supplies in the deserts or wearing torn rags. They ate in companionable silence for a while, the King's dog staring hungrily between them hoping for a scrap of food. It began to whine and Alexander allowed it to rest its head in his lap, laughing as it licked its lips and stared at him with large eyes. He relented and gave it the bone from the meat he had finished.

"You were curious about Hephaestion?"

Anatolios swallowed his food loudly as he looked at Alexander. He was nervous, worried in a way. It was only to be expected when a soldier of no rank was invited to dine with the king. He did not know of the correct graces or words to use. He may offend the king and be punished.

"Yes, your grace."

Alexander laughed to himself a little with the usual charming smile.

"You asked if he is my erastes. You still wish to know?"

The young soldier nodded enthusiastically which pleased the king. At last, someone who would listen.

"He is my erastes," he said proudly as he sipped at his cup. "He is my Patroclus and I am his Achilles. You know the story of the heroes?"

"I do, your grace. My mother would tell it to me. I loved to hear the stories of Achilles' many triumphs. It makes me proud to serve under your army when you have as many great successes as he."

Alexander smiles openly.

"My own mother would tell me the stories also. When I was a young boy, she would take me in her arms and tell me that I would be remembered as Achilles was. That I am indeed, the son of Zeus. Later when Hephaestion came to us, she would sit with us both, stroke our hair."

He seemed to stare into the distance then, reminiscing on such a happy time for him.

"I never doubted that Hephaestion was sent to us, to me. My mother told me that he was a gift. My very own Patroclus who would be loyal to me always. Who would help me achieve my fate. There were others who laughed at her tales until they saw him grow. By the gods he was carved by Aphrodite herself. He grew to be tall, muscled," he sighed. "But with the beauty that women everywhere would hate him for. Every day we grew together and he succeeded me in every way. He was faster, stronger. He was a better fighter and wittier. He grew to be the prince my father would have killed for. And still, he would look to me with love in his eyes. Laugh off every compliment and every advance. He glorified me. He still does. He makes himself the ground beneath my feet so that he may raise me up."

Anatolios was leaning forward eagerly in his seat, his eyes concentrating on every movement of the king's lips.

"Why was he sent to live with you, my King?"

Alexander frowned them and the boy faltered, afraid he had said something wrong.

"I don't believe I ever understood it really. My mother explained it to me that Hephaestion was born to a family connected to Athenian royalty. But Greece was changing and power was shifting. From what I believe it was my father who led an army for the siege on Athens. Hundreds were killed when they did not pledge allegiance to him as King. Mostly when they tried to flee the city. Hephaestion was only a child and when the army attacked, his grandfather entrusted him to some of the women from the court. They hid him from the soldiers when they killed his family but as in everything soldiers wish to claim the spoils of war and they intended to claim those women. They found him there. My mother told me that they tortured them until they revealed who he was and they had every intention of taking a knife to his throat right there. But something stopped them."

Anatolios felt his heart racing from the story.

"They brought him to my father instead. He used to tell me that as soon as he saw him he knew he could never harm an innocent child, lest one who so reminded him of his own young son at home, but I know now that he would have been serving his own interests. There was no one to hold him ransom to but of course he always did like having pretty serving boys. It must have come as a surprise to him when they finally made it back to Macedonia and the boy could speak the dialect perfectly. I remember it so well, when he stormed into my mother's chambers and almost threw him at her. 'Do what you will with that', he had told her. His clothes were covered in days old blood, he was half starved. I'd never seen anything like it before and at first I feared this strange new creature that demanded my mother's attention away from me. He never cried once. Never even flinched. Very rarely do I ever have the courage to ask him about it. But that is how he came to live with us. We studied together under Aristotle, played together, trained together. He was in a way the brother that my mother could not give me, but much more than that."

"How old were you?"

Alexander was pulled from his thoughts then and began to play with a ring on his finger.

"When we became lovers? We were seventeen or so, I believe. But it had always been there. I pride myself on my bravery, but never have I felt fear like the fear I had of him rejecting me. I was coward enough to keep my feelings secret. I employed the help of my friends to determine his thoughts or feelings. I wondered if he might be persuaded. I even considered naming him as my erastes whether he liked it or not. I heard many a tale of various court members who approached my father to ask about him. My father. As if having him under his roof gave him claim to give him away. He would have done too had it not been for my mother."

He paused then to drink and to push his hair from his face.

"There was an older man, a friend of my fathers. I was told they had fought together in battle. No doubt he was decorated in some way. But battle had not been kind to him. He had scars. It was while we dined at one of the many feasts my father held that I came to know of him. Cleitus in his usual way was fawning over Hephaestion, stroking his hair as he had always done from when he first arrived at the palace. But all the while I could see they were being watched by this man. I asked my father about him and so readily he told me his intentions to give Hephaestion to him."

"But Hephaestion isn't his son," Anatolios protested.

"No. But he believed that if he provided for him as one then Hephaestion would obey him as one and if not he was considered the spoils of war to do with as he pleased. In his eyes, Hephaestion owed him his life. I was his heir, it would have brought shame to him if I became someone's erastes. But he owed this man a debt and he was determined that this would be how to repay it. The first person I told was my mother. I was enraged and the only other person who could calm me was Hepheastion. But he couldn't know. I didn't want him to know what was to happen from me. She soothed me and assured me that the gods would not allow my Patroclus to be taken from me. It was in their hands."

Alexander poured more wine into their cups.

"The next morning the old man was found dead in his chamber."

"She murdered him?"

"I never did know for sure. My father had no way to point blame at her. He was an old and drunken man found choked to death on his own vomit. Regardless, Hephaestion was not subjected to him and that is all that mattered to me. I took great pains to keep him out of my father's way for fear he would find some other debtor in want of him. It was shortly after that when we became lovers. We knew we had to keep it as private as possible. For both our sakes. My father was already expecting me to choose a bride and prepare to take over the throne. My mother too had her plans for me."

"But they know now? Like at the games."

Alexander nodded thoughtfully.

"Yes. It is relief to no longer hide my lover in the shadows."

Alexander had always been a very proud young man, eager to show the world his successes, and Hephaestion had been his greatest success.

"But I fear that if my men here know it, how long will it be before our enemies know it. How long before they decide to use it against me, take him captive, threaten his life, kill him to distract me whilst they invade Greece."

He laughed a little then.

"So the solution, I have been advised. Take a wife. Not only will it allow me to have a son, an heir. But should any enemy aim to take a captive then they would of course take my wife-not Hephaestion."

The young boy merely looked at him. Of course he understood what the King was saying but it did not affect him too much. If he had to make the same decision between his own Patroclcus and a bride he did not even know, it was not difficult to see why he would choose Hephaestion. There was a knock on the door then and it was gently pushed open.

"Alexander?"

The King stood up immediately and faltered given the amount of wine he had within his blood.

"Hephaestion," he beamed as he walked towards the door. He pulled him into a hug and Anatolios watched them fondly.

"I'm sorry to intrude," Hephaestion apologised. The boy watched every small movement and expression with rapt attention. His chin tilted down as he looked to Alexander with large eyes lined in kohl, almost asking something. He held himself in a quiet way, almost timid; his fingertips brushed the kings hands with affection and he tucked his hair behind one ear. Every movement was elegant and charming and the young soldier couldn't help but be entranced by him.

"It is not an intrusion, my love," the King reached up to stroke his cheek and his eyes roamed over Hephaestion lovingly. "You've been away all day, I was beginning to consider sending out a search party."

Hephaestion gave a small smile and sighed.

"I was praying," he said quietly so as to avoid the young soldier hearing him. Alexander nodded and stroked his cheek once more.

"Won't you have something to eat. I can have them make something for you," he said as he pulled Hephaestion towards the small couch and forced him into it.

"Thank you for your hospitality my king, but my commander will be expecting me," Anatolios spoke, sensing Hephaestion's discomfort at the presence of this stranger. He stood and stepped around the small table to kneel and kiss the king's ring. He could feel Hephaestion watching him as he left and he inwardly chided himself for his thoughts on how beautiful he had looked. From he was a young boy his mother had always encouraged the romantic in him and how he now envied the King.

When he had returned to his quarters he was given not a moment of peace as his fellow soldiers asked about the King. What they had discussed, why he had asked him there, would he be asked again? He was glad of it when his commander dismissed them all to bed and ordered no more questions. He lay in his cot for a long time thinking on what the King had said and he swore to the gods that he would do all that he could as a soldier to protect the King and General Amyntor from harm.


	17. Chapter 17

"What is your name?"

Alexander held himself in the doorway to the room and surveyed the stranger who was wrapped amongst the blankets in his bed. He thought it was incredibly unfair that he should have to share his room with this person and that his mother paid him so little heed now. It frustrated him that he received no reply and though his throat was already dry in the dusty humidity, he asked again with more force. He was the prince of Macedon and he would not stand to be ignored.

"Your name," he insisted as the other boy simply looked at him. There was no malice though. Not in the way that the other boys he played with gave. This boy just looked confused. Alexander took a moment then to wonder if they even spoke the same language. His mother had explained to him recently what it meant to speak another language as the young prince had not travelled far from his home yet.

"Rather crudely, he pointed to himself and said 'Alexander'. He hoped that this would be easy to understand and might garner a response.

"My name is Hephaestion."

"The other boy had a strange voice. Different in a way, but much the same as his own. It made Alexander a little bolder to be faced with something that was somewhat familiar to him. He walked over to the bed and stood just out of reach of it. That is surely what Achilles would do.

"How have you come to be here, Hephaestion?"

"A horse."

The young prince was almost taken aback by the way he had been spoken to.

"Well, of course you came here by horseback. I am no fool. I could have you punished for your in-for your...inso-"

Alexander struggled to pronounce the word he so often heard his father use.

"Insolence," the other boy corrected him which made Alexander's cheeks burn.

"I am the prince of Macedon," he said with anger.

"I meant no offense, your grace. Only I did not recognise you for a prince. I imagine a prince would be able to say 'insolence'."

Had it not been said with a kind smile, it would have angered Alexander further.

"I suppose they must," he agreed and climbed onto the bed. He wasn't sure he would like this Hephaestion much, but he seemed clever and Alexander was tired of staying in his room with little to do.

"Where were you before you came here? Where are you from?"

"My home is Athens. But now this is my home."

Alexander nodded thoughtfully.

"I suppose if you require a home, I could share mine with you. Do you play?"

"Play?"

"Yes, play. Imagine things, like in the stories. I like to play at being a soldier in the greatest army. I am undefeated in battle," he stated proudly.

"You can't imagine someone beating you?"

Alexander thought about it for a moment.

"I can't imagine I would like it, and I only play at things I like."

The other boy only smiled at him then.

"I like to play at being a soldier too. But I never like to win. That way I can learn for when I am a real soldier and it's not playing."

Alexander frowned.

"I suppose that is an advisable tactic. But I should like to get used to the feeling of winning, for when it is real."

Hephaestion nodded enthusiastically.

"We could play now."

"Yes, let's," Alexander said brightly, pleased to have a new companion who enjoys the thing he likes to do most. "I shall play at being the King, and you can be one of my bodyguards."

He jumped from the bed and motioned for Hephaestion to follow him. They snuck through the hallways of the palace and dodged the servants who might give away their position. Their battle cries echoed throughout their living quarters as they became engrossed in their world of fantasy. As they led their men into battle they took the enemy by surprise and Philip roared with laughter as he was attacked by the blonde youth and the pretty little thing he had picked up in Athens whilst reading some letters. He lifted his son in one hand and Hephaestion in the other and they shrieked in the way children are want to do.

"Father, no!"

"Then surrender, my boy."

"NO!"

He played his part well and sent them on their way to supper; pleased to see that Olympias hadn't softened him to the point of ruin. He resolved to keep a close eye on the young Athenian. Perhaps he would be a good influence. He had been told that the boy showed no fear during or after the siege. He had taken it to be be stupidity but perhaps he was wrong. Time would tell.


	18. Chapter 18

"Hephaestion!"

"Grandfather!"

The young boy crawled out from beneath the bed when he heard the familiar voice call his name. His grandfather stooped to pick him up and roughly sat him on the bed.

"Hephaestion, where are your sisters? Do you know?"

Hephaestion shook his head, wide eyed and fearful.

"It's alright," his grandfather soothed and stroked his hair with unsteady hands. All around them were screams and shouting. From the window Hephaestion could see the darkening rise of smoke across the skies as his city burned.

"You must listen very carefully, do you understand? You must hide, Hephaestion."

"No, grandfather, I wish to fight! To be a soldier!"

The old man felt a deeper tragedy for their circumstance in that moment to see his grandson, his beautiful grandson, display all the bravery he has always wished him to have.

"No. This is not the time for such things, Hephaestion. One day, my boy, you will be the finest soldier in all of Greece. But for now, you must do as I say."

He wondered where his own daughter was, how she had been killed. There was no doubt to that. With a heavy heart he pulled open a chest belonging to one of his grand-daughters and pulled garments from within, instructing a reluctant Hephaestion to put them on. He did not look at him all the while, afraid to look into those blue eyes and find his daughter. He thanked the gods for the small grace in Hephaestion's feminine features, knowing it would buy them a little time on the streets. They killed men and boys first.

Taking the young boys hand, he rushed him down the back staircase and out into the side-streets of Athens. By experience he knew them well and was able to remain mostly hidden. Soldiers were all around them, civilians were having their throats cut in the open air. Blood spattered the pair as they carried on until they reached a small house that seemed untouched.

"Take him," the old man pleaded through the door. Hephaestion looked down to find that the bottom of his sister's dress was soaked in blood. It did not disgust him, he just found himself wondering who it belonged to, likely more than one person. He jumped a little when the door swung open and a very beautiful lady stood before them.

"You promised," his grandfather said softly to her. She looked to Hephaestion and faltered. 'It's because she thought I was a girl' he thought to himself. He was wrong. She reached forward to take his hand and pulled him inside. He turned towards his grandfather in confusion.

"Grandfather, you must come too."

"No, Hephaestion. I must go. When the soldiers have gone, I shall return for you. But you must stay hidden."

Hephaestion felt the temptation to cry but resisted because he did not want to disappoint his granfather. He thought about the lines on his face and the way he would let him ride on his back like a horse. Perhaps it was because of Hephaestion's age or perhaps the situation but in the moment when he watched the lady close the door he knew he would not see him again.

"They shall kill my grandfather, won't they," he asked her calmly. She was not the type to soften things for children. She nodded and shooed him towards the back room.

"If they find you, they will make you a slave," she said coldly and helped him into one of the large jars that usually held perfumed oil. It smelled quite nice to the young boy but the longer he crouched within in, the more it burned his nose and eyes. The smell was familiar to him somehow. Just when he began to wonder how long he had been there, everything happened all at once. Which is the way with these things. There were shouts from men and screams from women. Hephaestion heard things smash and then a chorus of laughter when someone spoke in an unfamilar accent. It was muffled to him inside the jar and he placed his hand over his mouth in fear that his small gasp had echoed.

He recognised the voice of the beautiful lady as she pleaded. The sound came closer and closer until there was a loud thud and then harsh light when the lid was pulled off. He was lifted easily from the container by a soldier and held there as they came closer to look at him.

"Little girl," he heard one say. "He said he wanted to keep 'em. Bring him back with us for serving."

He felt his knees begin to shake though he couldn't find any fear within him so he supposed it must have been because he was cramped for so long.

"She's a pretty thing, game of dice for her? Eh, boys?"

They laughed as the beautiful lady made a grab for him and held him behind herself. One of the soldiers hit her sharply across the face and Hephaestion ran at him, barely making any impact other than to hurt himself on the ornate armour. He felt himself being lifted by the back of his sister's dress and was held level so the man could look him in the eye.

"Privos," he said slowly, calling to one of the other men who was busy pulling apart the skirts of one of the other women.

"Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Privos, look at this one. I know that face."

Hephaestion knew better than to struggle as his chin was pulled up and he looked at deep brown eyes that bore into his. 'He knows' Hephaestion thought. There was something familiar to him about this man.

The man named Privos begrudgingly joined them and stared at Hephaestion for a moment without any real intent on seeing. But then he did see and Hephaestion was roughly set to the ground, his hair pushed back from his face. It was almost gentle as the soldier cupped his face in large and rough hands.

"By the gods. It has to be. Amyntor," he whispered. He heard one of the other men curse as they glanced to each other.

"Privos, you know what must be done," the soldier in the doorway said calmly.

"You do it then," came the reply. "Look her in the eyes and do it if you're so keen."

He cupped his face again and knelt down in front of him.

"She's a pretty thing alright. What's your name," he asked gently, wanting not to frighten what he thought was a her. He presumed she was too afraid to answer rather than Hephaestion being too clever.

"We could ransom her," one of the officers suggested. A welcome suggestion to most of them who although brutal for the most part, were unkeen to the idea of doing the deed. Hephaestion glanced to the lady and she nodded at him to encourage his silence.

"To who? They're all dead."

Hephaestion felt himself sway a little from the pain in his heart.

"Let Philip decide," Privos said quietly, to no one in particular. He was met with no resistance and picked Hephaestion up again, carrying him as though a mother with baby on her hip. It took a moment to adjust to the bright sun outside and all around were red cloaks and bronzed armour and dead bodies; including his grandafthers. He was carried towards a group of men further along the alleyway.

"Philip, a word, if I may."

"The man with a dark beard and a number of scars turned to them and laughed when he saw Hephaestion.

"Claiming your spoils already?"

The man named Privos simply said nothing.

"Not a bad choice. I'm a little envious, gift from the gods this one," he stroked Hephaestion's cheek. "Wouldn't have known that boys had taken your eye, Privos."

Hephaestion's stomach twisted as the man holding him looked at him in confusion, reaching beneath the skirts to check for himself. Philip laughed heartily and instructed the soldier to take the boy back with them.

"Philip?"

Hephaestion was ready. He knew he would be killed. His grandfather had wanted him to live but if he had to die right here he would die with honour.

"What," the other man asked in annoyance as he rounded up the men around him. Privos looked at Hephaestion for a long moment and his eyes softened.

"We are done here?"

The command was given to return home, taking any spoils they wished. Hephaestion was placed on a horse with the soldier who told stories to him for the entire journey. Where he was from and about where they were going. The soldier talked about his family and stroked the young boys hair and cheeks. He gave him some water and sweet meat and let him sleep against him when he became tired. The journey was long and Hephaestion said very little all the while. When he saw the gates of Macedon however, he could wait no longer.

"You did not tell him. Why?"

He heard the sigh from above him and looked up to the profile of the soldier and the wide expanse of sky.

"I did not."

"Why," Hephaestion repeated.

"You wish to die?"

"If I should die with honour, then yes."

The man chuckled and pulled the boy up to sit better upon the horse.

"That is why you live. This is your new home."

There were cheers and laughter as they entered, all unfamiliar to the young Athenian. These were not his people, this was not his city. This was not his home.

* * *

><p>Hephaestion felt bad for some of the other servers there as they stumbled and found it difficult to carry the trays. The punishments were dealt freely and did little to improve performance. Those who had been taken with him, two other boys and seven young girls, had no knowledge of the tongue here. Things were different and confusing. They had never had severs, did not know what was expected of them. Hephaestion wished to explain to them but they were forbidden to talk to each other.<p>

He was a little afraid when he had been sent for and as he was led into the large white room, he tried to take in as much of his surroundings as he could. He was presented in front of the throne to a beautiful woman and the man he knew to be named Philip. He immediately knelt and kissed the tiles, knowing that disrespect would not be welcome. His grandfather had wanted him to live. He must respect that.

The man smiled and seemed a little surprised.

"It's the little minx that fooled Privos. Ask him his name," he bellowed to what Hephaestion presumed would be the translator. Before he could be asked, he answered. The King seemed even more surprised.

"Come here, boy."

Hephaestion obeyed and was pulled into the King's lap. He was not necessarily repelled by him but he was not comfortable. He was petted and fawned over for a little while, aware of the cold glare of the blonde lady that sat next to them.

"Hmmmm," the King sighed to himself and held out his cup for more wine.

"What else can he say," the lady asked with a laugh, as though he were a trained dog to do tricks for her.

"I don't know," Philip chuckled. "What else can you say," he said mockingly to him.

"Whatever that should please you, your grace," Hephaestion replied slowly. He rather enjoyed the look of shock on his face.

"You speak our tongue?"

He glanced at the blonde lady and reluctantly nodded. The tense atmosphere served to show Hephaestion he was in trouble. Before he could understand what was happening he was being pulled along the passageways and into a bedchamber where a woman and boy sat on a great white bed.

"Do what you will with that," the man yelled at her and pushed Hephaestion towards her before storming out and slamming the door.

* * *

><p>"This is that Harpies doing! She has found a way to trick me, she had Privos do it. Just to prove she can. Why wouldn't he have taken him for himself? Given up so easily. I think not," he shouted as the wine in his cup spilled onto the floor.<p>

"Philip, darling. She couldn't have. He must have been taught it, aren't you pleased?"

"Pleased? Dammit woman don't you understand. To be educated, you have to be high-born. You see. What if they find out? I'll be a laughing stock!"

Antira soothed him and pulled the cup from his hand.

"But just think, my love. You have power over all of Athens, they have surrendered to you. And now you have one of their sons as your serving boy," she laughed which drew a smile from the King.

"Yes," he agreed. "Yes. I do. Boy," he called to one of the soldiers at the door who stepped forward.

"This, boy. From Athens, the brunette. Which house?"

"Your grace?"

"Which house, which house does he belong to? I'd like to send them a letter," he laughed and addressed all those present. "A letter of thanks for their generous offering in surrender."

The soldier did not answer until the King pressed him further.

"He is Amyntor's son, your grace."

The King faltered for a moment and looked to one of his generals. He recieved a nod of confirmation and promptly sat down.

"Amyntor. Amyntor. By the gods. I killed them all myself."

"You had to, my love."

"Shut up, woman. Be gone with you," he waved a hand to dismiss her and called his generals to him.

"The boy, does he know? Does he know," he asked hurriedly.

"No one has spoken to him, your grace. Only Privos and Joran."

"Bring him to me, bring me Privos!"

The soldier stepped into the room from the doorway were he had been all along.

"You knew. You told him?"

"I did not."

He dodged the silver cup that had been thrown at him but remained where he was.

"I had a suspicion at the time, I thought your judgement in the matters of facts were better than the judgement of a lowly soldier in speculation."

The King glares at him then but relents in his anger.

"By the gods, I should cut his throat and be done with it all."

"If you should choose, your grace."

"No I don't bloody choose," he said angrily and lifted another cup of wine. "Once that woman gets an idea in her head she is a force to be seen. She'll have had her notions of motherhood and taken him as her own. Damned woman."

"The boy can be dealt with, my King. Damn the woman and her motherhood. You wish to raise the enemy as your own! You shall be mocked, seen to be weak for a child. A boy who will become a man and a man that will strike you down," one of the generals speaks.

"Lyonas, you think only of the evil here. The boy should indeed grow to be a man. But a true Athenian that looks to the Macedonian King as his father. Athens will surely follow that lead, take him as their own prince. It will prevent a rebellion from the city. Athens will truly be yours."

They argue amongst themselves and all the while Philip thinks of the bright blue eyes that had shone so brightly that day in Athens. Even as they reflected the murderer of his family. 

* * *

><p>"Where did he come from mother, why is he here?"<p>

"Hush, Alexander. Let him sleep."

The brunette boy lies fast asleep in the arms of Olympia as she holds him close and rubs his back. Her own son sits by her and looks at him curiously. She knows he can be stubborn yet she hopes that he will understand.

"But mother," he whispers quietly.

"Alexander, you are Achilles," she soothes and cups her son's chin. "This is your Patroclus," she nods towards the other boy in her arms. "We must question the gifts that the gods give to us."

"But mother," he says again.

"Hush, now. You must sleep also."

She gently lays the boy down on the bed, careful not to rouse him as she washes his face and hands of the blood stains.

"Do boys wear dresses in Athens, mother?"

Olympia smiles and shakes her head. She can guess the real reason for it but she does not tell her son.

"Sleep now, Alexander."

"What is his name, mother?"

"I do not know," she says as she gazes at the boy with love in her eyes. It makes Alexander a little jealous and he turns over in annoyance.

"Goodnight my Achilles," she says as she kisses her son on the head. He smiles and bids her goodnight, wary of the sleeping form next to him. Could it really be his Patroculs. He can't imagine his father would send him his companion covered in blood and dirt. And especially not wearing a dress. The gods can be funny at times.


	19. Chapter 19

Alexander paced the room furiously, catching the eyes of each of the men present.

"He continues to undermine me at every turn, questions my judgement, speaks to me as though a child; as though he is King of Asia. He gave our secrets to the enemy!"

"You cannot be sure, Alexander."

"He would not disrespect you so."

"He is from a different world Alexander, he has never even imagined the world you seek to create."

"Your father trusted him, Alexander."

"Well I am not my father!"

The men fell silent when they heard the extent of his rage in his words. He seemed to most as though a man possessed. They all knew Alexander's weakness was the love and respect of his men, gold, power and land meant nothing to him if he didn't have that. The King gathered himself then and looked to Hephaestion for a brief moment. He tried to hide it but all of his men knew that he cared most what Hephaestion thought of him.

They all tried to catch a glimpse of him then but his expression was mostly unreadable. He was protective of the King to the point where he would mask any and all emotion until they were in private together.

"Hephaestion?"

The young brunette glanced up at the mtnion of his name. Alexander was looking at him, almost pleading to him.

"What say you?"

The men further down the table leaned forward and strained to hear. Many of them held their breaths knowing that Hephaestion's voice would likely be the deciding factor in this matter. The gravity of the situation weighed heavy upon them all.

"I..."

He sighed then and pushed himself up from his seat to be level with the King.

"I believe this is a decision best not made during the midday sun. I intend to take a walk and gather myself. I pray you will join me, my King?"

Alexander looked at him for a long moment and then nodded. The generals breathed a sigh of relief and gently nodded their thanks to him as he led Alexander out. Alexander did not speak, knowing better what Hephaestion was trying to do. They walked at an easy pace until they reached the fruit gardens and angry as Alexander was, his heart still skipped a little when Hephaestion pressed their lips together.

"Your men love you Alexander, with all of their hearts and every part of their souls. They are willing to kill for you and to die for you. They trust you beyond reason and would go to any lengths to gain your trust. They follow you blindly into battle and yet today they drew back. Not because of any sword or any darkness. They resisted because they believe you are wrong."

Alexander frowned then.

"You are King of Asia, a title for one man, perhaps. But it is a job for many. The evidence of Parmenion's crime is subject to dispute, it is not enough to execute him Alexander. That's why your men draw back. Not because they do not trust your judgement but because when they reach the Underworld they shall be judged themselves. What if he is innocent?"

He looks into his love's eyes and awaits any response, even anger would be more welcome than thoughtful silence.

"As ever, Hephaestion, you are right. But he stands in the way of the future," Alexander insisted.

"As did our forefathers, as does the Parthenon, the Great Rivers. As do you. You all stand in the way to shape what is to come. To leave your mark, Alexander. Parmenion has spent his whole life leaving an impression on the world, only for a young man to change everything."

"You are angry with me," he asked softly, worry in his voice.

"No. But at times I fear for you, Alexander. Other times, I simply fear you. You are worthy of the power you have, the trust you have gained, the loyalty you hold. But you cannot commit a man to death unless you are sure of his crime. Exhile him, arrest him but you cannot execute him yet. He has lost his son Alexander."

Hephaestion hugs him tightly and Alexander buries his face in the soft hair.

* * *

><p>"I have re-considered. Until there is further evidence, Parmenion will not be executed."<p>

The generals murmured their thanks and raised themselves to tend to their duties.

"You truly are a King, Alexander," Ptolemy said to him gently as he left. Alexander nodded but did not look at him. Hephaestion hadn't returned to the meeting. His leg had been hurting him and Alexander had suggested he get some rest before they had supper. He had no doubt that his men knew Hephaestion had changed his mind. Though he did not feel the shame he would if it had been anyone else. Hephaestion was clever, and Alexander was intelligent enough to take his advice in these matters.

* * *

><p>Alexander was beginning to worry. He had sent a paige to fetch Hephaestion for the supper but that had been a long while ago. Perhaps it seemed longer however because of the desperation he felt in him. His mind was playing the situation over and over and he needed a distraction. The dancers and servers were a distraction but in the wrong sense. He wanted comfort, stability. Love.<p>

For a long while he spoke with Cleitus and Ptolemy, they laughed and joked and it gave Alexander a happy carefree feeling, one he had not had in a long while. He smiled when he saw the dancers assembling in front of him and in spite of himself he was a little aroused to see they wore masks. Alexander always did love things to have an edge of mystery to them. Where most feared the unkown, Alexander craved it. He recognised the lithe form of Bagoas and leaned back in his chair, drinking in the sight of the young Persian boy. Alexander was a passionate man and already was planning to have Bagoas stay with him for the night. The comfort would certainly be welcome.

Ptolemy was cut off when the drums began, a relentless and somewhat frightenin pace. It set Alexander's skin alight and he grinned. One of the serving girls filled his cup with a sweet and refreshing wine and immediately Alexander's day felt better. Hephaestion had been right about the effect of the heat. It drained their energy and raised tensions between them all until the cool nights when they would laugh and joke freely. Perhaps they ought to become nocturnal like the desert animals. He laughed to himself at the thought and felt a welcome spark in his stomach when two of the dancers stepped right up to where he sat, twisting and writhing to the beat. They were beautiful women and he couldn't help but reach out a hand to touch the stomach of the one of his right. Ptolemy grinned at him and the warmth of the wine coursed through Alexander, relaxing him and stirring a giddy feeling within him. He thought of Bagoas and tuned his eyes back to the young man. He watched as they gathered into a circle and formed into two lines, facing each other but continuing to dance. They moved in a blurry haze, faster and faster until they stoppped abruptly with the beat.

The surrounding men and women began to applaud but the dancers did not bow. Cleitus nudged the King who smiled when he saw two more beautiful women at the end of the line. They formed intricate steps as they walked down through the centre towards the King. The suspense grew and most of the other men craned their necks to get a better view. Some even stood and it gave Alexander a thrilling feeling to know that this was all about him. Behind the barely dressed women was a man with a black robe folded down to the waist, exposing his chest. He wore a black mask as well that came into a point over his mouth, rather like abird they had seen many times in the desert at Guagamela. He walked forward and then stopped, raising his arms slightly and turning slowly. He moved slowly, in rythym, something too sinister to be considered dancing. For a moment Alexander wondered if this was an elaborate asassination.

The women stepped up to Alexander and joined the other two dancers. Ptolemy and Cleitus fawened over them but Alexander was irritated that they blocked his view of the strange creature below. Was it Bagoas? He had never seen the boy move in such an erotic fashion and a hazy part of Alexander's mind reminded him that he was the wrong build to be the eunuch. The King tried to stand but the women prevented him, pressing him back into his seat. He watched in fascination as the young man came closer, reaching out as though to touch the King but pulling back at the last moment. The music intensified and Alexander's heart beat faster with each minute. The man stood right before them, partially obscured by the dancing women. Watching as one of them stoppped dancing, he was intrigued to see her take a sword from one of the servers and hand it to the man. He held it well in a firm grip and lowered his stance as though for battle.

When he began to dance, cutting the sword through the air and facing Alexander the whole time, the King thought that no matter what he had to have this man. He felt guilt already for his lust when Hephaestion was so true to him and so loyal. Hephaestion had never told him his feelings about his relationship with Bagoas but when Alexander imagined Hephaestion taking a lover, it angered him to his core. He realised he had been staring into space while he contemplated this and was startled to find the young man had finished his dance. He had driven the sword into the soil and was quickly retreating through the lines of dancers who merged into one crowd again as the music shifted.

Cleitus and Ptolemy were charming the women but Alexander stood and pushed through them. Some of the men called out to him, laughing to see the look in his eyes. They all knew what that look meant. The dancers shifted out of his way as he scanned them to find which one it was. He recognised the long hair of Bagoas and pulled the mask from him.

"My King," the boy smiled radiantly.

"Bagoas, who was the other dancer," Alexander felt himself sway a little and the boy helped to steady him, clearly disappointed that they King was not seeking him.

"I do not know, my King," he said sadly. "There are many dancers."

"But you must have seen him, practiced it, something. What does he look like?"

Bagoas did not meet his eyes.

"I do not know, my King."

"You're lying to me Bagoas, I can see it in your eyes."

The boy looked up in fear and shook his head desperately.

"The women, they told us what to do. They say to form the lines like so."

Alexander looked to the four women still with Ptolemy and Cleitus and all of them were watching him and laughing. Anger raged within him to see them mock him and he stormed back up to them.

"Why do you laugh," he grabbed one of them by her hair and hissed in her face, surprised by his own anger.

"Alexander," Ptolemy stood to calm him.

"Who was he," he asked her. She did not answer and Alexander shook her hard.

"You dare to defy your King!"

"Alexander, you are frightening her," Ptolemy pulled her from his grasp.

"It was Amyntor," Cleitus said roughly. "We thought you knew. Figured you were off to find him."

Alexander stared at them both.

"Hephaestion? It was Hephaestion?"

"Well, that's what I figured. Don't imagine anyone else has that ring."

Alexander's mind was cloudy. He had been wearing a ring? He looked over to where the sword remained in the ground and he practically ran to it, inspecting the handle and realising that this had been a gift from himself to his would have recognised Hephaestion in an instant. It can't have been. He didn't wait to hear anymore from his generals. He headed straight for his chambers.  
>*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*<p> 


	20. Chapter 20

Alexander pushed past the servers who were not quick enough to get out of his way. It had grown dark hours ago and the hallways were shadowed in darkness with oil lamps every now and then. His pulse raced and his stomach twisted as he made his way towards his room. When he rounded the last corner of the passage, he stopped.

There at the end, by the door, was the young man in the mask.

"Hephaestion," Alexander called out to him. He recieved no reply. He walked towards him and the man pushed himself off the door he had been leaning on, stepping quickly towards Alexander. The King became nervous, he wondered if it was indeed Hephaestion. Cleitus had said he wore the ring. It had to be him. Unless...someone else had the ring.

"Hephaestion," Alexander called again as the man advanced. His pulse quickened for a different reason now.

"Answer me, who are you?"

The man stood a meter or so from him now, the mask creating a haunting atmosphere. Was this mystery or anonymity? 'No one else could resemble Hephaesion so' Alexander's mind told him. 'But Hephaestion would not trick you so' his heart told him also.

Silent, he raised his hand to show the ring. Hephaestion's ring. This only led to more distrust in Alexander's heart. Why would his Phai not speak? The King almost stepped back when the man advanced but his nerve was stronger and he held fast. The man prowled around him, the mask making him all the more animalistic. Alexander wished to strike him but feared that it was his love. He felt the man's breath on his neck through the mask.

"Phai."

There was a momentary pause before he felt the man's hand through his hair. It felt wonderful and in that one movement Alexander felt the warmth and excitement he had when he had watched the dancing.

"Is it you?"

He turned to catch a glimpse of him and was startled when there was nothing there. Turning fully he watched the figure disappear into the darkness of the corridor. Slowly, the King followed. Everytime he became close, the man would take off again. There was something playful about it, just close enough that he could catch him. He would dart from one side to the other in the gloom and the light from the lamps danced off his chest and the black mask. Alexander too wanted to be playful, to join in with this flirtacious dance, but he was afraid. Of what, he did not know.

At last the man seemed to stop, at a doorway that Alexander did not recognise. He had been praying that he would be led to Hephaestion's chambers and he could then express his surprise at this new side of his lover. Now he was unsure. The man pushed open the door and stood aside, staring down as Alexander stepped through. It was a small room, one of the servers quarters. There was a cot to sleep in and a wash bowl. Alexander had visions of a plot to murder him, that he would be kidnapped within his own home and his throat cut.

He spun round when he heard the door closed and was only slightly relieved to see the man was still in the room with him.

"Take off the mask," Alexander said forcefully. The man did not.

"Phai, please."

He didn't move. Alexander was beginning to panic.

"Hephaestion?"

The King jumped a little when the man stepped towards him, taking something from the fold in his robes. It was a strip of material. He paused when Alexander leaned away from him but he then reached forward to cover the King's eyes.

"Who are you," he asked, covering any fear he felt. His heart thudded when he felt the man kiss him gently. It was soft but unyielding. The man stepped back and Alexander's mind was reeling.

"Anatolios?"


	21. Chapter 21

Their kiss was stirred with passion like nothing Alexander had ever known. Every smal gasp and every movement ignited a fire within him like he couldn't describe. His nerves were alight. It was akin to the feeling he had in the thick of battle. Absolute fear combined with total bliss. He had known love so much more intense than this, love to last the ages, love to conquer all but nothing so raw and sexual that made him feel so empowered. He felt like a lion. But each time Alexander tried to touch them, they pulled away which frustrated him.

"Anatolios, is it you?"

The man pulled away sharply and for a moment he was confused until he felt a sharp slap to the face.

"What are you doing," he shouted and held his hand to his own cheek, feeling the sting there. He reached for the blindfold and a hand stopped him.

"Anatolios, how dare you strike your King!"

He inhaled sharply upon feeling the strike to his face again. Then he was kissed so ferociously. It was violent and vindictive and everything Alexander craved. He was almost certain that this was not Hephaestion and a guilty voice within him warned him to stop, to be afraid. The only thing that made him stop was to wonder how they got the ring that had just sliced his cheek. Hephaestion never takes it off.

Alexander ripped the piece of cloth from his eyes and backs away.

"How did you get that ring? Who are you, what have you done to Hephaestion," he screams and lunges forward to tackle him to the floor. He wraps his hands around the man's neck and presses down, hard. Below him, the man kicks and gasps, struggling and writhing.

"Alexander," he chokes out as he tries to pry his hands from him.

"It's me...please."

The King releases him and pulls the mask away to reveal Hephaestion, kohl streaming onto his temples as his eyes water and he coughs. They stare at each other for a long moment, both panting with their hearts racing. Then they kiss once more. Hungry. Desperate. It feels as though they are fighting, the pure adrenaline coursing through their veins. It is angry and heated and ferocious. Alexander still can't believe it is Hephaestion, the calm and endearing one. To see him like this is the greatest Aphrodisiac for the King. He bites down on Hephaestion's shoulder and takes pure pleasure in the scream he gives. He stands quickly and drags Hephaestion to his feet, pushing him against the wall and kissing him. He lifts him from the ground, awkward and clumsy but he can't control himself. Every fibre of his being is transfered into the lust he feels for this man. The deep eyes and chiseled jaw. The heart that intertwines with his.

"Why," he says between kisses. Hephaestion smiles. Not in the way that brings warmth to Alexander's soul. There is something wicked in this. Something that reminds him in a way of his mother. Something he never would have imagined would be in Hephaestion. It is something he has in himself that he had always tried to keep hidden from him. He thought he would judge him. Misunderstand him. Hate him. To find it there made him see. He is truly Patroclus. He is me.

"I know you Alexander. You love the fear. The terror and the fight."

He reaches a hand up to cup his cheek that bleeds a little from the ring.

"I see the way you watch the boy. The dancers, the things you want; I am here to give. Body and soul," he whispers lovingly. Alexander thinks on the masked dancer he had watched earlier. The feeling it had given him. It compared to no other. Hephaestion did know him. He knew that the King's love for him ran deeper than love for any other. But not deeper than the love of mystery. He was giving him something to discover.

"And you thought it was the boy," Hephaestion snarled. "How many Alexander? How many more until you will be satisfied? My love is never enough for you. Perhaps you need my lust too," he smirked and scratched his nails down Alexander's chest in the dip of his robe. An angry red mark appeared. "Is this what they do for you, my King? Is this what your whores give you?"

"Don't call them that," Alexander said irritably.

"Don't fuck them," Hephaestion replied defiantly.

The King leaned down to Hephaestion's throat and kissed right above his collar bone, relishing the soft moan he heard. He reached out to take hold of Hephaestion's wrists and appreciated that although he had been given a chase, he was also being allowed to catch. He knew it took a great deal of strength and trust for Hephaestion to submit to him. He barely had to move and Hephaestion was following him to the bed. Alexander's stroked his lovers hair away from his face. He subtly tried to ensure he was comfortable so as not to ruin the atmosphere but Hephaestion just laughed. They kissed slowly, languid and easy. They were in no hurry but the tension was becoming unbearable.

Hephaestion maintained the most sultry expression as he used some oil to cover his hand. He watched Alexander intently as he pleasured him and brought him to full hardness. He adjusted himself beneath him and gave their signal to continue. Alexander reached for the oil but a hand caught his before he could.

"Proceed," Hephaestion whispered in his ear. He looked at Phai almost questioningly. Where had he been learning these things? He'd never seen him like this. Of course he was an incredibly sexual person, but not this dark. It gave Alexander a different feeling of satisfaction. As though his soul was now satisfied that it knew another to the very core.

He was nervous of hurting him as he penetrated him but Hephaestion remained expressionless as he entered, eyes open and watching him. Wicked and challenging. He could almost hear his thoughts. 'Is this enough?' Alexander had never been so turned on. He moved gently and his muscles trembled. He could barely hold himself up the pleasure was so intense. There were sighs and moans from both of them until he couldn't take it any longer.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as he kissed him gently. He knew then that he was being far too rough and he was probably causing his lover so much pain but he had never felt so connected to him before. He sobbed with relief, love, satisfaction. They were lost to the world. Immortal and unending. They were one soul and one mind. Pressing their noses together in a light touch, they lay together after in a light sleep.

Somewhere near dawn Alexander awoke more fully and lightly traced the bruising around Hephaestion's throat. Then he held him closer and returned to sleep.


End file.
